Tiered: The 500th Hunger Games, the 20th Quarter Quell
by tracelynn
Summary: "24 tributes will be Reaped from each District to compete in 3 levels of competition; the Preliminaries, the Semi-Finals, and the Finals. The Victor of this Quarter Quell will have survived three Hunger Games. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor." The odds will not be in the favor of 287 tributes as only 1 tribute out of 288 will arise Victorious (Not a SYOT)
1. Presentation of the Quell

**A/N: So yeah. Another story. I know, I know, Tracee, you're piling too much onto yourself. This, Oceanside, and 500YOP! My! But this idea has been knocking around in my head for the better part of two weeks, and it won't leave me alone, so here is the beginning. And Oceanside's almost at the Final 8, so that should be over in a few weeks. Oh, and no, this is not another SYOT, and it might be related to 500YOP, not sure yet. Enjoy, and expect sporadic updates. Oh, and, just so you know, by this time there is an Academy in every District, so there will be at least 2 or 3 Careers from all of the Districts :)**

* * *

 _ **Sonoma Taverns, 23, Capitol Socialite and cousin of President Florian Coppers**_

* * *

I pulled back my midnight black hair into a high ponytail, making sure every flawless, smooth strand was tucked underneath the stretchy black hair band. Already, my makeup artist, an older woman who used to be part of District 8's Prep Team, started applying foundation. Octavia was older and had lost all of her beauty, but she still could apply makeup like she was still 21. Different shades and layers formed on my face, covering the small, disfigured scar on my upper lip, the small blemishes and acne scars on my cheeks and forehead. My already beautiful face was transformed. She applied coppery eye shadow and thick mascara before dusting my cheeks lightly with sparkly pink blush. Light pink lipstick was applied heavily to my lips.

I slipped out of the spinning, cushioned black chair and looked at my reflection. Standing at only five feet tall, I looked dangerous and beautiful. My tight, knee length coppery bronze dress showed of my curves nicely. Octavia slid clunky beige pumps onto my feet, and then brass rings onto several of my fingers. She carefully set a complex bronze necklace around my head, letting it fall a small distance to the base of my neck. I adjusted it to my liking, and then I snatched up a tan colored wristlet, which I filled with cash, my caller, and some regurgitating medicine in case I decided to have more than one meal tonight.

Octavia helped me out of my penthouse and into the elevator. It slid down thirteen stories to the ground level. The doors slid smoothly open, and I strutted out, as stunning as usual, if not more so. The bellhop stared a little too long at me as he held the doors out into the streets open.

A stretch limousine waited outside, and inside were six of my favorite party friends. The bellhop opened the door for me, and I took a seat inside the long, sleek black car. The driver revved the engine to life, and I squealed as we shot down the street and did a sharp, exciting turn.

"Sonoma!" Chara, my friend, yelled excitedly. We hugged tightly. She was dressed in earthy tones; it suited her curvy frame and light brown hair nicely.

"We just opened a bottle of champagne, darling," Russet said, and I swooned. Russet leaned over and kissed me hard on the lips before pouring me a glass of champagne. My fiance, Russet was smart, charming, and very, very handsome. He was the Victor of the 497th Hunger Games, from District 1.

Our four other party friends greeted me. Albia, Tiberius, Junia, and Sergia all drank heavily from their champagne glasses, like the rest of us, until the limo pulled up at our destination. The Presidential Palace.

Lights glowed, music blared, glasses clinked, and people danced. It had been 10 months since the 499th Hunger Games, where a unique, albeit confusing twist was presented. Only one tribute from every District entered the Games, and the Reaping Balls for both genders were mixed into one. This was a subtle hint I'd caught onto; if they lowered the tribute numbers in the 499th Hunger Games, surely more than 24 tributes would be entering the Games in the 500th.

All seven of us emptied out of the limousine, and then it swerved away, driving into the shadows of the night. Russet clasped my arm tightly to his chest, helping me walk up the steps into the Presidential Palace. Our friends congregated behind us, laughing, already a little bit tipsy from the two bottles of champagne we drank in the limo. I, in fact, was a little drunk already myself.

We found our dining table, near the stage where President Coppers would present the 20th Quarter Quell twist. I was his cousin, and Russet was a Victor, so we and our friends got prominent placing at the get together.

On stage sat the Victor of the 499th Hunger Games and President Coppers' wife and two sons. The lights dim, and President Coppers strutted onto the stage, grinning handsomely, an envelope marked with a silver 500 grasped tightly in his hands.

* * *

 ** _Iria Axelle, 14, Victor of the 499th Hunger Games, District 6_**

* * *

How had I prevailed, you might ask? How did a 13 year old girl outwit 11 others?

It was rather easy.

There were Careers from 1, 2, 4, 5, 8, and 10 that year. We arose in a small forest arena, nothing new, nothing special. They didn't want the Games before the coveted Quell to overshadow it. The Careers killed the boy from 3, the girl from 7, the girl from 9, the boy from 11, and the girl from 12 in the bloodbath, and forgot about me. The boy from 1 killed the girl from 8, and the boy from 10 killed the boy from 2 before they all went their separate ways. Day 2, the girl from 4 was killed by mutts. Days 3 and 4, deathless. Day 5, the boy from 10 was killed by the girl from 5. Day 6, all three of us were pushed to the Cornucopia by flames. The girl from 5, badly singed, was easily speared by the boy from 1, but she put up a fight at the last second, slashing open his stomach. He heard her cannon, but not the trumpets signaling his Victory, and he started screaming, asking why he wasn't the Victor. Then I climbed out of the bushes, smiling, and he remembered me, and then I tried not to puke as I shoved my dagger into his neck, killing him.

I was one of the youngest Victors ever. There'd been three other 13 year old Victors; Luissa Germaine of District 3, during the 150th Hunger Games (the twist was that tributes were aged 12 and 13), Symone Truette of District 12, during the 234th Hunger Games, and Ventrin Kolasii of District 4, during the 451st Hunger Games. There had also been a 12 year old Victor, Rue Crimmond of District 11, during the 74th Hunger Games.

I knew I had gotten off easy. My parents still acted like I was a child, and they forbade me from moving into the Victor's Village. They didn't want me to start morphling like our three other Victors: Nadia, who won the 451st, Greasa, who won the 470th, and Axel, who won the 482nd. Not that I needed morphling. I rarely had nightmares. I truly had gotten off easy.

President Coppers began to list of the 19 previous Quells in rapid fashion, so the audience would not become supremely bored.

"For the First Quarter Quell, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district was made to hold an election and vote on the tributes that who would represent it."

"For the Second Quarter Quell, as a reminder to the rebels that 2 rebels died for every Capitol citizen, twice the number of tributes were Reaped."

"For the Third Quarter Quell, as a reminder to the rebels that the Capitol can be generous and kind, dead tributes from previous Games were Reaped and brought back to life."

"For the Fourth Quarter Quell, as a reminder to the rebels that the Capitol can change the rules, no Victor was allowed that year. At the end, though, to show rules can be changed and that the Capitol has mercy, the final tribute was saved and named Victor."

"For the Fifth Quarter Quell, as a reminder to the rebels that the upper 6 Districts proved more loyal than the lower 6 Districts, yet still have to pay, 4 tributes were Reaped from Districts 1-6."

"For the Sixth Quarter Quell, as a reminder to the rebels that even the youngest cannot escape the Capitol's power, the tributes were ages 12 and 13."

"For the Seventh Quarter Quell, as a reminder to the rebels that the upper 6 Districts that they were more loyal than the lower 6 Districts and shall be rewarded, 4 tributes were Reaped only from Districts 7-12."

"For the Eighth Quarter Quell, as a reminder to the rebels that no one can escape the Capitol, there was no age limit, though children 8 or younger and seniors 70 or older were not added out of pity."

"For the Ninth Quarter Quell, as a reminder to the rebels that one District was demolished while the rest were left to prosper, all the tributes were chosen from one randomly chosen District; District 10."

"For the Tenth Quarter Quell, as a reminder to the rebels that the final battle where the Capitol won lasted 39 days, 39 tributes will be Reaped, regardless of District or gender. No volunteering will be allowed."

"For the Eleventh Quarter Quell, as a reminder to the rebels that when they broke the bond with the Capitol and made a bad mistake, two pairs of twins from each District will be Reaped, and if one twin dies, their bond breaks and the other twin will die, while the winning twins will both be crowned Victor."

"For the Twelfth Quarter Quell, as a reminder to the rebels that many women lost their lives in the rebellion involuntarily, the tributes will be all female, and no volunteering will be allowed."

"For the Thirteenth Quarter Quell, as a reminder to the rebels that many men lost their lives in the rebellion involuntarily, the tributes will be all male, and no volunteering will be allowed."

"For the Fourteenth Quarter Quell, as a reminder to the rebels that even those closest to fame and power cannot escape the Capitol, the tributes, ages 10 to 30, will be in some way related to a past Victor."

"For the Fifteenth Quarter Quell, as a reminder to the rebels that the Capitol dictates what happens in the Games and in Panem, the Capitol chooses what will happen in the arena and who will live and who will die."

"For the Sixteenth Quarter Quell, as a reminder to the rebels that certain groups of people are luckier than others, each District will Reap a number, from one to twelve, and and whatever number is Reaped, that is how many tributes will be supplied. Tributes were chosen from a mixed, single Reaping Ball."

"For the Seventeenth Quarter Quell, as a reminder to the rebels that wrong doers are punished and punished more, the tributes, ages 16 to 35, were criminals or Avoxes."

"For the Eighteenth Quarter Quell, as a reminder to the rebels that not every District was the same in the rebellion, females were Reaped from the odd Districts, and males were Reaped from the even Districts."

"For the Nineteenth Quarter Quell, as a reminder to the rebels that the Capitol could leave them helpless at any time and in total anarchy, there will be no volunteering, no supplies in the Cornucopia, and no sponsors."

"And now, for our 20th Quarter Quell."

I turned my attention to President Coppers' hands as he ripped open his envelope.

"As a reminder to the rebels that the rebellion caused mass deaths at different times, the Hunger Games this year will have 3 parts. The first part, called the Preliminaries, will be where each District provides 24 tributes, 12 male, 12 female. They are paired with another District to make a Games with 48 tributes, and the Top 12 of each of those Games heads to the Semi-Finals. At the semifinals, the Top 12 of 3 of the Preliminaries will be put into a Games, and the Top 12 of 3 of the other Preliminaries will be put into another Games, both having 36 tributes. The Top 12 of each of these Games will be placed in the Finals, where 24 tributes will battle it out, and one Victor will arise, Victorious, having survived 3 consecutive Hunger Games."

I was stunned into silence, just like the Capitol crowd and all of Panem. So many deaths. I quickly did the math in my head. 288 tributes...I gulped. Thank the heavens, I thought. Thank the heavens I'd been picked last year and had won and was safe from this devastating Quell.

"Oh, and one last thing; since these Games are so rigorous, and so much life will be lost, the Capitol will provide the Victor's District with 10 years of extra supplies, and they will be exempt from the 501st thru the 505th Hunger Games. Any District that gets a tribute into the Final 8 of the Finals receives a year of extra supplies, and the District with the most tributes in the Finals receives another year of extra supplies."

At least there were some benefits. But still. 24 from every goddamn District. 288 children. 287 of them would die. One would survive. It would go from 288, to 72, to 24, and then to 1. I wouldn't be surprised if the survivor committed suicide or died of drug overdose soon after this nasty Games, this ugly Quell.

"The first pair of Districts to face off in two months will be..." President Coppers trailed off as he pulled two slips out of a miniature Reaping Ball.

"Districts 8 and 12!" President Coppers exclaimed, holding up the neat pieces of paper, a gold 8 on one, a gold 12 on the other.

"Have a good night, Panem," President Coppers said, his fake smile twitching as the cameras shut off.

* * *

 **A/N: Yep. 288 tributes. I know, I know, this is SO ambitious and all. It actually is, and I'm going to do it. You know me; I do an SYOT and a story about the first _500_ Hunger Games at the same time, and now this. Ambitious is practically my middle name. Don't worry though, I'll get it done.**

 **I'm sorry to announce that I will be postponing my second SYOT, at least for a while. SYOTs are too stressful at this point in my life, after several things have popped up to stress me out and limit my time. This story will be updated whenever possible after I finish my SYOT, and this story will become my focus after Oceanside is wrapped up. This story isn't the reason I'm postponing my next SYOT, this is just something easier to write than an SYOT. I change my mind a lot so a SYOT may come out soon :). But when that story comes out, I won't be leaping right into it and updating every other day. Just a notification.**

 **If this is released with another chapter or two, it is because I didn't want to post the first chapter and leave everyone hanging for a while. I really hope you decide to stick around and read about the slaughter of 287 kids. I'm superbly cruel. Panem is lucky I am not a real Gamemaker, or the Games would be even worse than they were. Hehe.**

 **Anyway, ignore my insanity. I really hope you enjoyed this and are ready to go through bunches of Hunger Games (9 to be exact) with me and our 288 tributes.**

 **P.S. Thanks, meaperson1, for letting me use your a few of your great Quell ideas! Oh, and so it is clear, Rue won the 74th Games, so the 3rd Quarter Quell twist had to be changed and the Games continued.**

 **P.P.S. Some of the QQ ideas above are so great, I might just write some of them in the future! (More ambition, piling on...)**

 **Until next time,**

 **Tracee**


	2. Districts 8 and 12 Prelim Reapings

_**DISTRICT 8 REAPINGS**_

* * *

 _ **Flavia Thundersome, 39, District 8 Escort and Capitol Citizen**_

* * *

I waited back stage, watching intently at what was playing out across the screen in front of me. My makeup artist and hairstylist were focused on their work, pinning up my flame orange hair and applying orange-red eye shadow and lipstick to my face. I was focused as I watched Hannah Arterie of District 8 prevail in the 25th Hunger Games, the very First Quarter Quell.

Hannah, the mayor's daughter, was voted in after the mayor ordered Peacekeepers to shoot a hundred prospective rebels without investigation. Most of the victims were later found innocent, and the mayor was executed. As one last, final blow, the citizens of District 8 submitted Hannah into the 25th Hunger Games.

Her father, suspecting she could come into danger if he ever messed up in his work, had a Capitol physical trainer whip her into shape, and, at age 16, start practicing with wooden swords. By age 18, when she was voted into the Games, Hannah was fast, strong, flexible, and trained aptly with a sword.

The first Careers had entered the Games in the 13th Hunger Games, but there was still only two or three of them per year, mostly out of District 1, by the First Quarter Quell. District 1, thirsting for its fifth Victor, voted in two Careers. District 2 voted in a male Career and a female who'd defaced the Academy and the Justice Building with rude profanities in her graffiti. District 3 sent in a hacker's son and a girl who'd accidentally killed two workers while working in a factory, producing microchips. District 4 sent in a boy who sunk a dozen fishing ships, sending dozens into starvation and depravity, and a girl who was insane and had murdered her father. District 5 sent in a boy who was an arsonist and a girl who had accidentally broken the mayor's daughter's arm. District 6 sent in an addicted, older boy and a drug dealer's 12 year old daughter. District 7 sent in two random tributes selected by lottery; a lone lumberjack's only child, his young son, and an orphan girl. District 8 sent in Hannah and a boy who was a pickpocket, named Darian. District 9 sent in a boy who had stolen food and burned it and a girl who accidentally set a large wheat field on fire. District 10 sent in a boy who shot other farmer's livestock for fun and a girl who liked to break windows and fragile objects. District 11 also did a random lottery, like District 7, and sent in the candlemaker's mid-aged son and an older farmhand girl with two sisters and a father. District 12 condemned both children, the boy 13, the girl 15, of a serial killer who'd killed 13 people before he was captured and hung.

I was now watching the finale, where Hannah, the male Career from 1, the psychotic girl from 4, and the District 12 serial killer's daughter met up at the Cornucopia, herded their by vicious snake mutts. The male Career quickly finished the psychotic girl, not wanting to have to deal with her, only turning around to see the District 12 girl's spear and Hannah's sword in his face. As the District 12 girl gutted the Career, Hannah swung her sword around and chopped off the girl's head. Hannah, the executed mayor's daughter, was returning home to an angered District.

As the trumpets sounded on the screen, a Peacekeeper told me it was time to head on stage. I hadn't realized that my makeup and hair had been finished a while ago, and I had just been sitting in my chair, dazed, watching Hannah prevail. The screen quickly flipped to the Reapings of the 50th Hunger Games; they were playing the 19 other Quells in a rotating wheel on TV. I'd already re watched most of them, thought that was the first time I'd seen Hannah's in years.

I slid out of my chair, my high heels clicking as I walked onto the stage. Over a thousand dull, childish faces of District 8 looked up at me, at my fire-like features. I smiled, my white teeth glittering, as I welcomed them.

"Welcome, District 8, to the Reaping for the 500th Hunger Games, the 20th Quarter Quell! First, we'll watch the video about the Dark Days, then we'll get on with the Reapings!"

The video burst to life, and I ignored it. I'd heard it exactly 17 others times since I'd become escort at age 21. I started out in District 12 and spent 4 years there, before I was moved to District 10 for 3 years. Then I was transferred to District 8 11 years ago, and I'd been here ever since.

As soon as the video wrapped up, I strode over to the Reaping Balls.

"We'll do this in alternating fashion; a girl, then a boy, a girl, then a boy, and so forth. Here we go!" I said, and I dipped my hand into the Reaping Ball for the girls, snagging a small slip of paper and reading it aloud.

"Ti-" I began.

"I volunteer!"

A girl marched up to the stage, biting her lip.

"Your name and age?" I asked.

"Flannelette Richards, 17," she said happily, folding her arms across her chest. I smiled, before picking a boy's slip.

"Roark Taylor!" I yelled. A younger boy staggered on stage, weeping, and he whispered his age into my ear.

"Roark is 13 years old, everyone!" I said brightly. I picked another girl.

"Abilene Carron," I shrieked. A girl tiredly walked on stage. She seemed dazed.

"I'm 16," she muttered before lumbering to stand beside Flannelette and Roark. I picked a boy.

"Crosshatch Demons," I yell. A boy runs on stage, smiling wildly.

"I'm 18," he said. "I'm a Career; I was just waiting till the end to volunteer, so I'd be more memorable."

I laughed. "Well, that's swell!" I picked a girl.

"Silky Ianis!" I cried out. A small girl walked onto stage, crying.

"I'm 12," she mutters, rubbing her eyes. I patted her on the back, and she recoiled. I frowned, picking a boy's slip.

"Nich-" I began, but a someone cried "I volunteer!"

A boy ran on stage, grinning.

"My name is Nylon Griffiths, and I'm 17. I didn't think Crosshatch was volunteering, so I wasn't going to either, but now that I know he wants in the Games, so do I. We're a good team," Nylon said, smiling. He walked over, and he and Crosshatch bumped fists.

I picked a girl. "Matisa Fulton!" A 14 year old girl stumbled on stage, crying.

Another tribute, a boy. "Henry Camingdon!" Henry said he was 13.

A girl. "Patternia Veil!" A 15 year old girl, seemingly confident, walked on stage.

"I'm a Career, but I wasn't planning on entering the Games this year," she said, smiling.

I nodded, and then drew the 5th boy. "Gingham Drains!" A 16 year old boy walked over stage, angered.

The 6th girl was called up. "Odessa Crawls!" A small 14 year old girl walked onto the stage.

"Faris Caldwell!" A strong looking 18 year old boy trotted onto the stage. We were halfway through. Whew.

"Lilly Cardigan!" A tiny 12 year old girl, weeping and shaking, walked onto the stage.

"Kingsley Mitchell!" I cried out.

"I volunteer!" a 15 year old boy said as a 13 year old boy started to walk from his pen. The boy ran onto stage.

"Another Career, waiting for a surprise?" I asked him.

"No. My name is Kinno Mitchell, and that's my little brother," he said. "I'm 15."

I nodded, and picked the 8th girl. "Tallie Chett!" A small, 13 year old girl is dragged onto the stage by Peacekeepers. She is growling, fighting against them.

"Tunis Marbie!" I cried out. A strong looking 16 year old boy walked on stage.

"I was a Career, but I quit when I was 12," Tunis admitted into the mic before stepping back.

I nodded. We were two thirds of the way through.

"Chenille Markus!" I cried out. A 15 year old girl trotted on stage, down fallen.

"Corduroy Damige!" I yelled. A 16 year old boy walked very slowly onto the stage, and I realized his leg was in a cast.

"I was injured in the factories," he murmured into the mic.

"Jasmine Loat!" I screamed. A 13 year old girl, thin and emaciated, struggled to walk onto the stage. She sure needed a loaf of bread.

"Fleece Congrutts!" I cried out. A 15 year old boy jogged onto the stage, looking worried. Only 4 more.

"Intarsia Peller!" I exclaimed. A strong, wiry 17 year old girl stumbled onto the stage.

"Linen Tobb!" I screeched. A skinny, weak 14 year old boy walked onto the stage. 2 more.

"Lycra Ostensible!" I murmured. A strong 18 year old girl walked onto the stage.

"I am a Career, but I decided at the last minutes to forgo the Games this year, after I learned about the Quell twist," Lycra told the crowd. They nod. She is sensible, unlike the other Careers on this stage. And now, the last tribute.

"Damon Murcee!" I shouted. A short 15 year old staggered onto the stage, dazed.

"Now, we have the tributes from District 8!" I exclaimed. I had to count them all off. It was hard to remember all of their names. "Flannelette, Roark, Abilene, Crosshatch, Silky, Nylon, Matisa, Henry, Patternia, Gingham, Odessa, Faris, Lilly, Kinno, Tallie, Tunis, Chenille, Corduroy, Jasmine, Fleece, Intarsia, Linen, Lycra, and Damon! May the odds be ever in your favor!"

I walked the tributes backstage. District 8 had 4 Victors, but only two were allowed to Mentor: Madras of the 464th, and Dimity of the 493rd. They would both be Mentoring.

24 of 288 down. I just sighed. At least I wasn't doing all 288. I might gouge my eyes out and rip out my tongue. To personally see all 288 walk onto the stage... seeing two every year was enough, I could deal with that. They usually died, I understood that. But now I had seen 24, and at least 4 or 5 of them, probably a lot more, would return from the Games. And one or two might make it to the Finals. To see them come back twice...you became attached to Victors. It would be hard to lose tributes this year.

I gave one last, sad wave to the crowd before the 24 tributes and I disappeared back stage. We were walking to the trains, where we would go to the Capitol.

Where a lot of these tributes would die.

* * *

 _ **DISTRICT 12 REAPINGS**_

* * *

 _ **Essie Trinket, 22, District 12 Escort and Capitol Citizen**_

* * *

How fitting that they showed the 50th Hunger Games, the 2nd Quarter Quell, while I'm in District 12.

I sat backstage, waiting for the Reapings to begin, My hair, makeup, and costume, glittery pink and purple, was all perfect, and I was waiting impatiently, watching the TV screen. It was the bloodbath, with 48 tributes. In about a week, this same scene would be occurring with District 8 and 12 tributes, some of who I'd be Reaping today.

I watched as Haymitch Abernathy, the long dead Victor of those Games, run away from the melee, snagging a small pack. His soon to be ally, Maysilee Donner, also from District 12, ran into the bloodbath and picked up a dart gun with darts. She shot one into one of the boys from District 8, wounding him, before running with a bowl, dried beef, a pack of rope, and her weapon. The wounded boy from 8, dazed in pain, was soon cut down by a girl from 1 that would make it to the Final 2 with Haymitch.

I was entranced, watching the 18 tributes who would fall in the bloodbath die one by one. Suddenly I was shaken from my focus on the televised re-run of the 2nd Quarter Quell when someone said "1 minute till Reapings!" I leaped to my feet and walked over to the left wing, which led to the stage. I waited exactly a minute, and then I strode out onto the stage, smiling and waving at the despondent faces of District 12. They glowered at me. This was my second Reaping. The first time, last year, I'd gotten exasperated when they glared at me the entire time. I'd yet to have a normal Reaping; the 499th had 12 tributes, and this Games would have 288. Insane.

"I'm your escort again, Essie Trinket, and we're doing the Reapings for the 20th Quarter Quell today. We'll be picking 12 girls and 12 boys. We'll do a girl, then a boy, then a girl, then a boy, and so on. Here is the video about the Dark Days."

I hit play on a small remote and the video began. I watched it, though I didn't truly listen. It was the basics of the rebellion during the Dark Days. Stupid stuff you learned at age 6 in school in the Capitol. When the video was over, I walked over the girl's bowl and drew out a slip.

"Al-" I began, but there was a resounding "I volunteer!"

A strong, blonde haired girl stormed forward, grinning widely.

"My name is Beautify Clarence, and I am 17!" she cried out.

"Great, a volunteer, a Career!" I said, happy. Then I picked the boy.

"Orrin Dash!" No volunteers. Unless someone was pulling the trick like the boys did in District 8 earlier, there would be no male Careers from 12 this year.

"I'm 18, and I was just about to volunteer," Orrin admitted. I smiled. So we did have a male Career this year from 12. I picked the next girl.

"Ne-" I began, but I was interrupted again. "I volunteer!"

A slim, wiry 13 year old walked onto the stage.

"Hi, I'm Corabelle Linette, and I'm a Career. I want to be the youngest Career to ever win the Games, and the youngest Victor from 12! I'm seven months younger than Symone," she said, smiling. I congratulated her. She seemed a bit like an Iria Axelle copy cat. I then picked the boy.

"Rhys Tolling!" A short, emaciated 14 year old scrambled on stage. No more Careers, it seemed. I picked the 3rd girl.

"Emlee Reigns!" I shouted. A tiny 12 year old girl, emaciated, resigned to her fate, slowly staggered onto the stage.

"Jack Ying!" I cried out. A skinny 12 year old boy was dragged on stage by the Peacekeepers. His mother wailed, begging for him to be freed.

"Coalette Simon!" I yelled. A tall 18 year old, glaring at me, stepped on stage.

"Hubert Lesher!" I screamed. An emaciated 15 year old boy walked onto the stage, csrying. One third of the way through.

"Lena Occing!" I yelled. A smart looking 16 year old girl jogged onto the stage.

"Kenneth Rings!" I screeched. A starving boy, 16 years old, walked onto the stage.

"Foragia Cards!" I cried out. A 15 year old girl, strong looking, marched on stage, trying to smile.

"Cole Ro!" I shouted. A tall, skinny 17 year old boy walked onto the stage. Halfway done.

"Penny Mei!" I screamed. A pudgy little 14 year old girl, staggered onto the stage.

"Lou Traceton!" I yelled. A scrawny little 13 year old boy walked onto the stage.

"Athiya Corraba!" I exclaimed. A tall, muscled 18 year old girl walked onto the stage, stating that she had been training as a Career for a while but had stepped out last year.

"Jett Black!" I cried out. A dark haired 15 year old boy, shivering and trying not to cry, staggered onto the stage. Two thirds done.

"Astrid Lewis!" I screeched. A blonde, merchant born 16 year old girl trotted onto the stage.

"Verney Dorsin!" I yelled. A muscled 16 year old boy stepped onto the stage.

"Brigitta Funnel!" I screamed. A healthy looking girl, age 17, stepped onto the stage, despite the dismay of one of the Peacekeepers in the crowd; her father.

"I thought her name was out of the Reaping Balls, Abroar!" the Peacekeeper yelled at Mayor Abroar, who shrunk into the shadows. Surely neither of his sons would be called up today.

"Archie Phyler!" I exclaimed. An emaciated 13 year old boy staggered onto the stage. 4 more to go. I took a deep breath as I fished the 11th girl's name out of the Reaping Ball.

"Phana Grotrekk!" I yelled. A starved looking 12 year old girl walked onto the stage.

"Etienne Walker!" I cried out. A tall, coal dust covered miner boy, age 18, walked onto the stage. 2 more, only 2 more. I already knew that a lot of these kids would be dying soon.

"Mallory Undersee!" I screamed. A crying 15 year old girl took the stage. The final one, the final one, I told myself.

"Dawson Gundie!" I proclaimed. An angry looking, thin 15 year old boy stormed on the stage, looking like he wanted to slap me. I would want to slap me, too. You'd escaped 11 other death sentences, so the 12th one, you should not be chosen, right? Too badly for Dawson, life didn't work that way. I began to list off all 24 of our tributes.

"The 24 tributes representing District 12 in the 20th Quarter Quell!" I cried out. "Beautify, Orrin, Corabelle, Rhys, Emlee, Jack, Coalette, Hubert, Lena, Kenneth, Foragia, Cole, Penny, Lou, Athiya, Jett, Astrid, Verney, Brigitta, Archie, Phana, Etienne, Mallory, and Dawson! Have a happy Hunger Games, District 12, and may the odds be ever in your favor!"

I walked the tributes out to the train, where the two surviving Victors of District 12 waited; old, withered Uriel from the 444th, and young, lively Freida from the 490th. Each Mentor would have the large responsibility of 12 tributes, the males with Uriel, the females with Freida. The weaker tributes would most definitely be neglected.

I boarded the train with them, wondering if any of them would even make it to the Finals.

* * *

 **A/N: So here's the sort of extensive Reapings of District 8 and District 12. Wow, this really is going to take a while. Now, some questions:**

 **1\. Who are some of the most memorable tributes?**

 **2\. Who are some of your favorites or the strongest ones?**

 **3\. Who did you dislike?**

 **Thanks for reading! Expect trains rides, with both Districts on the same train, and chariot rides, combined into one chapter, next. That chapter will probably not be that long (no promises. I might end up churning out an 8,000 word train ride. I never can really predict what I'll write.)**

 **Until next time,**

 **Tracee**


	3. 8-12 Prelims: Trains and Chariots

**A/N: Here is train rides and chariots mixed together! Next chapter will be private sessions (I'm skipping over training, because I don't think I can write 27 repetitive training chapters, though they will have 3 days to train) and interviews. Here it is!**

* * *

 _ **TRAIN RIDES  
**_

* * *

 _ **Corabelle Linette, 13, District 12 2nd Female**_

* * *

As soon as we got onto the train, District 8 welcomed us. They'd been waiting on the train for a while, and a few were complaining about the ugliness of our District or something. Disgusting brats. District 8 was as smoggy and urban as 12.

The train was three times as long as the one that usually came to pick up the standard 2 tributes. Now 48 tributes, all of us in this first "Prelim", were packed on the same train. Freida happily announced that we'd all have our own rooms, and shooed us to go claim one and explore the train.

I skipped around, and a few younger girls approached me, trying to incorporate me in their alliance. I wagged my finger at them, sighing.

"I'm a Career, dofuses!" I chuckled. "Why would I go with YOU?" More laughter as the girls slunk away to go recruit more allies.

I spotted the other two Careers from 12 this year, Orrin and Beautify, standing together, asking the older tributes who had volunteered and was a Career. I walked over to them, and they grinned weakly at me before continuing to search. I rolled my eyes. If it had been a normal 24 tribute Games, Orrin would have gone in with a girl named Coala, who chickened out. Beautify was his girlfriend, and that's why he hadn't been volunteering until he was called. I was the tag-along, apparently.

Soon enough, we scoped out our fellow Careers, who were in the dining car. There were 3 of them, one girl and two boys. The girl and one of the boys were 17, and the other boy was 18. They introduced themselves as Flannelette, Nylon, and Crosshatch. The strange names District 8 gives to its children.

"Who's this?" Nylon asked, rudely pointing to my diminutive frame.

" _This_ is Corabelle Linette, age 13, a CAREER, excuse you," I snapped. "Who's this?" I mocked rudely, lazily pointing my finger at Nylon as I slouched.

"Cora, quiet," Beautify hissed. I rolled my eyes, but she was right. We needed more allies. I _guess_ these dumbos from 8 will have to do.

"Anyone else with you guys?" Orrin asked.

"There were 3 other people who train at our facility that were Reaped, but only one wants in," Crosshatch growled. "They're forming their own alliance, which is annoying. It's Lycra, Tunis, and then those girls from 12, Athiya and Brigitta. Two Career alliances?! Stupid."

"Yeah," Beautify mumbled. "Stupid."

The girl from 8 who'd been Reaped and was a Career came over. She was 15 and looked a little bit younger than that. She was short and stocky and strong-looking.

"Patternia Veil, 15 years young," Patternia chuckled, shaking our hands. She was officially in the Career alliance, I guess.

We chatted for a while longer until curfew arrived and we were forced into our rooms.

* * *

 ** _Lyrca Ostensible, 18, District 8 12th Female_**

* * *

We could see the Careers looking us over, and it made me really uncomfortable. I knew they wanted us to join them, but I didn't think that was the most spectacular idea. Patternia had already joined them, leaving Tunis and I standing together strangely and quietly in the middle of the bustling train.

We spotted a similar pair, two girls from 12. We walked over, and we met each other.

"I'm Athiya, age 18," the older one said. "I'm an ex-Career."

"Brigitta, 17," the younger one replied, shaking my hand firmly. "Not a Career, but my dad's a Peacekeeper. He's trained me well."

Tunis and I introduce ourselves, and we hesitantly form an alliance.

"Anti-Careers," Tunis murmurs, and we all nod, smiling. That's it. Anti-Careers.

Soon enough I'm appointed the leader of our group of 4. I look over at the Careers. Nylon and Crosshatch seem to be squabbling over who will lead, while the Careers from 12 seem uncomfortable. Rifts, already? Perfect.

"Weapons?" I asked everyone quickly. "I'm the best with swords."

"Warhammer," Tunis admitted.

"Crossbow or throwing knives," Athiya muttered.

"Whatever I can get my hands on," Brigitta chuckled. "No, probably daggers."

I nodded. "Don't practice with any of those during training. They'll think we're weak. You can get decent training scores, but don't aim for anything over 8. 9 or higher, and we're definitely more on their radar, if that's possible. Don't talk to them, and let's not stick together all the time. They'll think we're drifting apart and that we'll be easy to separate and kill. Good?"

They all nodded, and we went our separate ways as curfew arrived.

* * *

 _ **Mallory Undersee, 15, District 12 12th Female**_

* * *

I just stood around as groups formed and grew around me like garbage piling up in an alley. I wandered, looking for someone to incite conversation with. I finally spotted a girl, from 8 by the looks of it, standing in a similar fashion to me in the corner. I walked over to her, and we chatted. She was nice, and her name was Intarsia. She was 17, and looked it, but was approachable and kind. She was also rather strong.

Soon, another girl from 8, Chenille, age 15, joined our conversation. A minute later, a girl from 12, Foragia, also 15, joined our conversation. Soon another girl from 12, Astrid, a merchant born 16 year old, was talking with us. Over the next five minutes, Abilene from 8, age 16, also joined the conversation. To top it off, we added a single boy to the alliance before bed came, a funny 15 year old named Gingham.

We'd formed a large alliance unintentionally, but it felt good, comforting to have friends for the Games. It was just sad that not all of us would make it out of the arena.

* * *

 _ **Faris Caldwell, 18, District 8 6th Male**_

* * *

I towered above most of the other tributes, so I stood out like a sore thumb. No one was asking me about alliances. I was probably too imposing or something. I looked over to the Careers, where a tall 18 year old boy, who was muscled and agile-looking, was being refused membership. He walked away and over to another tall girl, at least 17, probably 18, also from 12. They held hands, and then their eyes met mine, and I walked towards them.

"18?" I asked them both.

"Yep," the replied together.

"Looking for an alliance?"

"Yep."

"Care to join together?"

"Sure," the boy said. "I'm Etienne. This is my cousin Coalette. You are?"

"Faris. Faris Caldwell," I replied, shaking his hand and then shaking Coalette's. I guess I had found some friends.

* * *

 _ **CHARIOT RIDES  
**_

* * *

 ** _Kalaepanosa "Kalae" Cometchase, 25, Capitol Reporter and Citizen_**

* * *

"Welcome, welcome to Kalae's Hunger Games Broadcast!" I said as the cameras clicked to life. "This is Kalaepanosa Cometchase, your everything Hunger Games reporter for Finesse TV! Today we'll be reviewing the _CHAR-I-OOOOOOOTS!"_

I spun around in my chair as the giant screen behind me clicked to life, showing as the first chariot started to roll out onto the promenade that would lead them to the City Circle, several miles and twenty minutes away from the start of the "parade", as it was sometimes called by insolent fools.

"Now, folks, pairs of two are going out in each chariot. The first two Reaped from 8 go out together, then the next two, and so forth. So we had 24 chariots this year opposed to the usual 12, so more chance for lovely fashion as well as ugly fails. Here's the first set from 8; Career Flannelette Richards, and little Roark Taylor! They're dressed in beautiful outfits made of different colored silks! Wonderful, not to garish or thrown together like most of District 8's outfits! The second set, Abilene Carron and Career Crosshatch Demons. Dressed in outfits made entirely of needles! Genius! It's a little flashy, but it's still a wonderful piece. They sure do well for their Careers, at least. Third set, tiny Silky Ianis and Career Nylon Griffiths. They're dressed in outfits with faux cotton buds all over them. A little cutesy for Nylon, but it works for adorable little Silky! Now, District 8's fourth set, young Matisa Fulton and younger Henry Camingdon! They're outfits are okay, I guess. Nothing new; bunches of different colors types of fabrics stitched together into oblong outfits. Meh. Fifth set, Patternia Veil, a Career-in-training, and Gingham Drains. Their outfits are wonderful, simply magnificent, almost as good as the needle outfits! Spools of different colored thread are wrapped around them in rainbow colors and it is wonderful! Now, sixth set. Whew, this is tiring. Odessa Crawls and strong, handsome Faris Caldwell in this chariot, folks. They're in pure white cotton outfits, pretty nice, to show their innocence. Works for Odessa, maybe not the best thing for striking Faris, though. Now, the seventh set, tiny Lilly Cardigan and our volunteer, Kinno Mitchell, who volunteered to save his little brother! So sweet! Sadly, their outfits aren't so sweet. They're...well, to say it bluntly, it looks like they got put in potato sacks. Oh, it's burlap! But the outfits are SO frumpy! Never mind, onto the eighth set. Little, fiesty Tallie Chett, who looks like she wants to rip something, haha, and older Tunis Marbie, at age 17, who stopped training as a Career a few years ago. Their outfits are better than the potato sacks that came before them. They're dressed in sequiney outfits, silvery. Okay, I guess. Ninth set approaching! Chenille Markus and poor, injured Corduroy Damige! Corduroy's leg was broken in an accident before the Reaping, but he's going under intense treatment to mend it before the Games begin. They're dressed in the sloppily thrown-together, multi-color, multi-fabric design thing Matisa and Henry were in. Same stylist, or just no ideas? Tenth set, nearing the end of District 8. Little Jasmine Loat, and Fleece Congrutts! They're dressed in outfits made of...fleece. Not that bad, though they're both sweating a lot! Eleventh set. Intarsia Peller and Linen Tobb. They're dressed in red velvet outfits, decent enough. And now, our twelfth and final set from District 8, stunning Lycra Ostensible and dazed Damon Murcee! They're dressed in beautiful avant garde outfits I cannot even begin to describe...they look totally unwearable, but they're by far the BEST outfits of the evening. I can bet you that the sponsors are already pouring in for lucky Lycra and Damon! Now, to the commercial break! We'll be back in 10 with the District 12 chariot rides!"

The cameras click off and I quickly guzzle half a bottle of water before leaning back in my chair and relaxing. Wow. This is hard work.

"Aaand we're back! Now for District 12! The first set out, both Careers; Beautify Clarence and Orrin Dash! They both look rather dashing in their fire-like outfits, though that angle is a little overdone. It was created by those two star-crossed lovers, Peeta and Katniss, from the 74th! So sad! Katniss almost won, though Peeta was sadly dispatched of by the Careers. Oh, here's the second set, little Career Corabelle Linette and Rhys Tolling! Their outfits are studded with pieces of actual coal, it's okay, I guess. Third set, 12 year olds Emlee Reigns and Jack Ying...in baggy miner's outfits. Sigh. Fourth set, tall, strong Coalette Simon and shaking Hubert Lesher. Their skin is covered in coal dust, and Coalette is wearing a black dress while Hubert wears a black vest and black shorts. Inventive, awesome! Fifth set, Lena Occing and Kenneth Rings...in more baggy miner's outfits. GET. CREATIVE! Anyway, sixth set, cunning Foragia Cards and tall Cole Ro, dressed in metallic garments. It sort of works with their industry, I guess. Seveneth set, little Penny Mei and weak Lou Traceton...in nothing but coal dust. Really, AGAIN?! Poor little children. Eighth set is coming out, strong, smart ex-Career Athiya Corraba and devilishly handsome Jett Black, dressed in fiery-outfits similar to Beautify and Orrin's! Not very original, but eye catching and memorable. Ninth set, Astrid Lewis and Verney Dorsin, dressed in baggy miner's outfits WITH FLASHING LIGHTS! Yay, some creativity with the miner's outfits! Tenth set, Peacekeeper's daughter Brigitta Funnel and little Archie Phyler, dressed in all black. Okay. Eleventh set. Little Phana and tall, dashing Etienne, dressed in miner's outfits. Sigh. And, the final set, the twelfth set, with Mallory Undersee and Dawson Gundie...dressed as actual lumps of coal. A lackluster finish. Wow, Panem, that was the first of _9_ sets of chariot rides! Tune in tomorrow for tidbits of gossip about training! Kalae Cometchase, over and out!"

* * *

 **A/N: Here's trains and chariots! Hope you enjoyed them! They're not my best work, but I don't want to pour everything into train rides and have nothing left for this story's meat, the actual Games.**

 **ALLIANCES (I didn't have POVS for Beautiful Belles, The Guys Next Door, or Loners. Beautiful Belles is all girls, 14 or younger. The Guys Next Door is just guys, all 16 or younger. Loners are just that. Loners.)**

 **Careers: Nylon, Crosshatch, Flannelette, Patternia, Beautify, Corabelle, and Orrin**

 **Anti-Careers: Lycra, Tunis, Athiya, and Brigitta**

 **Beautiful Belles: Silky, Matisa, Odessa, Lilly, Jasmine, Emlee, Penny, and Phana**

 **The Guys Next Door: Roark, Kinno, Fleece, Damon, Rhys, Jett, and Verney**

 **We Found Allies On The Train: Foragia, Mallory, Astrid, Intarsia, Chenille, Gingham, and Abilene**

 **18 and Older: Faris, Etienne, and Coalette**

 **Loners (not an alliance): Henry, Corduroy, Linen, Jack, Hubert, Lena, Kenneth, Cole, Archie, and Dawson**

 **QUESTIONS  
**

 **1\. Favorite POV?**

 **2\. Least Favorite POV?**

 **3\. Favorite Alliance?**

 **4\. Whose POV(s) do you want to see next chapter?**


	4. 8-12 Prelims: Training and Interviews

**A/N: Here it is! I've decided that there's only 1 day of training, and I've included it, because there's 9 Games and anyone who makes it to the final Games will have, in total, 3 days of training. This chapter has the day of training, the private sessions/scores, and the interviews all wrapped into one. Sorry, the tenses differentiate between POVs, but they're consistent within each POV itself. Sorry for that. Enjoy, and please review if you're reading so I know you're there!**

 **P.S. Thanks to those who reviewed before, it was great to see motivational responses!**

* * *

 ** _TRAINING_**

* * *

 _ **Tunis Marbie, 16, District 8 8th Male**_

* * *

My escort, Flavia, is a mess as she tries to correctly orchestrate breakfast. Two mentors, 24 tributes, and 24 stylists, along with a handful of Prep Team members who've decided to join us at the meal, plus Flavia herself, adds up to an interesting, messy disaster. There's barely enough food to feed us all and one kid whines about being allergic to something or other on his plate. Our Mentors, Dimity and Madras, watch with amused smirks as Flavia's fiery red wig comes askew. She's a nice enough lady, her ideals are just misconstrued.

I sit down with Lycra on my right, and a portly 14 year old named Matisa on my left. Lycra and I talk in hushed tones over our breakfasts as we spear scrambled eggs and shovel them into our mouths. Protein in every meal, to strengthen our muscles, a practice learned at the Academy. I see Nylon, Flannelette, and Crosshatch sitting at the far end of the table, eating and laughing. Eggs are piled on their plates as well.

Soon enough Flavia is roaring over the chatter of breakfast conversation, saying that it's time to head down for our one and only day of training. Usually we'd get three days, but since the Games will have to repeat themselves 8 other times in the next several of months, the Gamemakers are "pressed for time", and need to get training over with. That means for the non-Careers decreased chance of survival. One day to learn a skill, especially with weapons, is not enough. The Careers will rule this Games. Thank God I'm partially trained.

Lycra and I walk towards the elevator together in the midst of all of the kids. The Careers push their way to the front, laughing. They tower over most of the kids, and I feel bad for the multitude of untrained 14-12 year olds. Only about 4-5% of Hunger Games have been won by someone 14 or younger, and most of those Victories are by 14 year olds. There's only been 4 13 year old Victors, including the newest Victor Iria Axelle, and only a single 12 year old Victor in all these 499 years; Rue of the 74th, who heavily relied on other tributes to win even though she was sort of capable enough herself.

We board the elevator, all of us. It has been widened to fit 24 tributes and 2 mentors inside with a little spare room, just in case. Several stylists want to see the proceedings of training, so they pile into the elevator. Lycra and I are smashed up against the wall, and we share an annoyed look as we glide down to the basement of the giant hotel like building. There we will train.

The metallic doors slide open, revealing an expansive room. I hear Dimity mumble something about "bigger than usual." Trainers are adding the final touches to their stations, and the legion of Gamemakers, headed by Vibius Carstellan, the Head Gamemaker, sat in the Loft overlooking the large room. Vibius is a towering man with styled black hair that has streaks of bloody red in it. His eyes are pale grey, cold and biting. His mouth is set in a firm, neutral line, though the corners twitch up as he spots the 24 of us stumble out of the elevator and into the training room.

Lycra and I share a look before we split. I head over to swords, which I'm decent with. I'm way better with a warhammer though. Lycra heads over to bows and arrows and does decently, hitting the target but not coming anywhere close to the center of the target. I don't know why I do, but I trust her a lot, maybe too much. But you need someone to rely on in the Games. And for the Prelims and Semi-Finals, 12 make it out. We can both survive, along with Brigitta and Athiya, although I know the chances of that are slim at best.

A minute later District 12 appears. I spot Brigitta wandering aimlessly, finally settling at the maces. She does terribly, but no one pays attention to her. Good move, as she's decently trained. Athiya looks tempted to try out the sleek throwing knives, and she does, but makes sure no one is looking while she throws them right into the center of the targets every single time. Then she heads over to spears and does decently.

I remain at swords most of the time until lunch. As lunch is called, I walk over to Athiya first.

"Go to the survival skills section. It's big and it won't seem like we're talking all of the time. Survival skills are good anyway."

Lunch is uneventful. I sit at a table with a few loners; the Henry boy from my District and Dawson from 12. They ignore me, and Henry is actually crying into his soup. Lycra is chatting it up with Beautify and Flannelette at the girl's Career table while Patternia and Corabelle watch, unsure of her motives. Athiya is chatting with Coalette and Etienne from her District along with Faris from mine, and Brigitta is talking with a girl from my District named Intarsia, I think. I see all of their socializing and realize that they're implanting themselves partially in other alliances, so ours doesn't seem obvious. I stand and walk over to Orrin from 12, who's watching Nylon and Crosshatch banter and swear with ill disguised contempt.

We talk for a while, and he promises to have my back, mumbling something about the Career pack's male components from my District being shifty and shady or something like that. Then lunch is over, and the four of us "Anti-Careers" collect at the survival skills. Brigitta works overtime at knots, Lycra speeds away at edible plants, Athiya builds a shelter, and I do camouflage. All four stations are in a row, and we pass little snippets down the row, communicating quietly and discreetly. We form our plan little by little as we shift stations to make it look like we're fully focused on the survival stations. As the day winds to a close, and I'm sparking a fire, nurturing it to life, the final piece of our plan falls into place, and I smile.

None of them will see it coming.

* * *

 ** _Crosshatch Demons, 18, District 8 2nd Male_**

* * *

I stride confidently over to spears as soon as I step off of the elevator. I pick one up, and, before the trainer can even say a word about posture or technique or what ever bullshit he wants to put in my head, I've thrown and the spear has sliced cleanly through the dummy's chest. The man recognizes me as the dashing Career from 8 and backs off, letting me do my work in peace. Good little boy.

After throwing for a bit, I head over to swords. That stupid, thick Tunis boy from my District is slicing apart dummies mindlessly. He has a shitty stance and he doesn't put enough force behind his blade, and yet he's practicing here all day like it's his best weapon. I scoff as I pick up a broadsword. That's what you get for quitting the Academy at a young age, you little shit.

My sword cleanly beheads the dummy, and the trainer applauds half heartedly. The other tribute at the station besides myself and oblivious, thickheaded Tunis, is little Jack from 12. He begins to shake at the sight of my prowess and dashes off to the survival stations, where many of the little kids are crowded, doing demented little tricks they can barely succeed at. Who needs survival "skills" when you're hot enough to get enough sponsors to last you all 9 Games happening this year without fail?

Lunch is called not soon after I demolish the rest of the dummies at the sword station. Stupid Tunis trudges over to a table with two little squirts that I don't even know the names of, that's how stupid they are. I sit down at a table with Orrin and Nylon, and the girls, Flannelette, Patternia, Corabelle, and Beautify, sit at the table next to us. Lycra sashays over to their table, winking at us, before sitting. She's a legitimate babe, and Nylon and I whisper things about her that would make my mother slap hard enough to knock out my pretty teeth. If she's joining us Careers, I'm down. Flannelette's hot, but she's "promiscuous", as my mother would tell me to say. Beautify's also a babe, but Orrin's got her wrapped around his finger. And Patternia and Corabelle are, like, 5 years old, so Lycra's the babe for me.

Nylon and I exchange some friendly banter and some friendly punches to the nose during lunch, and we laugh it off, even when his nose starts to bleed and sprays blood over Orrin's soup. He growls as we crack up and Nylon presses an icepack to his nose. Orrin begins to chat with blockhead Tunis, and I just roll my eyes. They both can have a pity party for all I care. I know they're talking about me, I can tell by the way they keep glancing at me and Nylon. They're jealous, the little shits. Serves 'em right, that's for sure.

After lunch, I go to maces and demolish some more dummies with my bud Nylon. Then I go over to wrestling and strip down to my boxer briefs (take a look ladies, and I know you want it, girls. Especially Lycra, look over here babe. Why the hell are you doing edible plants, babe? We can get enough supplies through our mutual hotness.) I win the wrestling matches every time, and I roar in victory, which scares some of the little kids, making them hide even deeper in the stupid survival skills stations. Yes, go hide. You can't hide forever. I'll cut off all of your heads, tear out your guts, kiddos.

I'll be the Victor, everyone. Just you wait.

* * *

 _ **PRIVATE SESSIONS  
**_

* * *

 _ **Vibius Carstellan, 35, Head Gamemaker and Capitol Citizen**_

* * *

"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Diocletia, happy birthday to you!"

My little 12 year old daughter squeaks in excitement as she blows out the 12 golden candles on her expansive birthday cake. It cost about how much one of the kids from 12 I viewed at training yesterday sees in their entire life, but that's not really much in the Capitol. Diocletia claps excitedly as my dear wife, Julia, slices the cake into large pieces and hands her one with a flower made entirely of sugar on it. I take a small sliver and eat a few bites before noticing my laptop has a blinking light on it. A new message.

I open the message as my daughter finishes her cake and starts ripping open the glittery packages that are her birthday presents. The subject reads "PRIVATE SESSIONS: SKILLS." It's from the Assistant Head Gamemaker, Balbinus Vloe. I had to come to my little girl's birthday party, but Balbinus and the others had to do private sessions, the dreadful things. Since I'n Head Gamemaker, I get to decide the scores. He's just outlined the skills shown and what they were worth out of 12. He hasn't put a suggestion, though I know Balbinus would be itching too. He loves this job, even more than I love it, which is hard to do.

My family and friends understand when I stand and retreat to my study without comment. They know I've made a sacrifice and risked my job to come to Diocletia's party. I'm a good dad. I see her nearly every day except on Hunger Games season. Now, with 9 Games, they started the Games earlier and her birthday intersects with the Games. She was wondering aloud that it would be cool to have her birthday on the bloodbath. She's sort of right. That would be cool, especially in a Games with 48 tributes.

I stride into my well furnished study, sitting down in a comfy leather chair. I let out a sigh and open the message fully, and I begin to read.

 _Hello, Vibius. It's Balbinus Vloe here. Attached to this message is the skills the 48 tributes showcased. The scores out of 12 can be averaged or not, all up to you Vib. Hope Diocletia had a wonderful 12th birthday party! - Balby_

 _DISTRICT 8_

 _Flannelette Richards: Showcased bow and arrow skills (10/12) and throwing knives skills (8/12)_

 _Roark Taylor: Showcased edible plants skills (9/12) and dagger skills (5/12)_

 _Abilene Carron: Showcased shelter building skills (7/12) and throwing knives skills (6/12)_

 _Crosshatch Demons: Showcased sword skills (11/12), mace skills (9/12), spear skills (10/12), and wrestling skills (9/12)_

 _Silky Ianis: Showcased fire building skills (5/12) and knot tying skills (4/12)_

 _Nylon Griffiths: Showcased sword skills (10/12) and flail skills (8/12)_

 _Matisa Fulton: Showcased fire building skills (7/12) and shuriken skills (4/12)_

 _Henry Camingdon: Showcased edible plants skills (9/12) and mace skills (1/12)_

 _Patternia Veil: Showcased atlatl skills (8/12) and throwing knife skills (8/12)_

 _Gingham Drains: Showcased edible plants skills (10/12) and awl skills (6/12)_

 _Odessa Crawls: Showcased camouflage (9/12) and throwing knife skills (3/12)_

 _Faris Caldwell: Showcased weight lifting (10/12), wrestling (8/12), hand-to-hand combat (9/12) and mace skill (7/12)_

 _Lilly Cardigan: Showcased agility course skills (7/12) and dagger skills (2/12)_

 _Kinno Mitchell: Showcased rope climbing skills (9/12), edible plants skills (8/12), and hand-to-hand combat skills (5/12)_

 _Tallie Chett: Showcased knot tying skills (11/12), wrestling skills (6/12) and throwing knives skills (8/12)_

 _Tunis Marbie: Showcased camouflage skills (6/12) and warhammer skills (9/12)_

 _Chenille Markus: Showcased firemaking skills (8/12) and throwing knife skills (6/12)_

 _Corduroy Damige: Showcased mace skills (4/12) and crossbow skills (6/12)_

 _Jasmine Loat: Showcased edible plants skills (10/12), camouflage skills (11/12), and dagger skills (1/12)_

 _Fleece Congrutts: Showcased weight lifting (5/12), edible plants skills (7/12), and axe skills (4/12)_

 _Intarsia Peller: Showcased edible insects skills (11/12), agility course skills (11/12), and hatchet skills (6/12)_

 _Linen Tobb: Showcased edible plants skills (6/12) and dagger skills (3/12)_

 _Lycra Ostensible: Showcased sword skills (11/12), edible plants skills (8/12), and throwing knives skills (8/12)_

 _Damon Murcee: Showcased dagger skills (5/12) and shelter making skills (6/12)_

 _DISTRICT 12_

 _Beautify Clarence: Showcased dagger skills (10/12), bow and arrow skills (8/12), and edible plants skills (9/12)_

 _Orrin Dash: Showcased sword skills (10/12) and mace skills (10/12)_

 _Corabelle Linette: Showcased agility course skills (12/12), trap making skills (11/12), and shuriken skills (10/12)_

 _Rhys Tolling: Showcased dagger skills (5/12) and edible plants skills (6/12)_

 _Emlee Reigns: Showcased camouflage skills (9/12) and dagger skills (2/12)_

 _Jack Ying: Showcased edible insects skills (5/12) and sword skills (1/12)_

 _Coalette Simon: Showcased weight lifting skills (8/12) and hatchet skills (7/12)_

 _Hubert Lesher: Showcased wrestling skills (7/12) and dagger skills (5/12)_

 _Lena Occing: Showcased medical skills (10/12), edible plants skills (8/12), stealth/agility skills (9/12), and throwing knife skills (4/12)_

 _Kenneth Rings: Showcased edible insects skills (7/12) and pickaxe skills (5/12)_

 _Foragia Cards: Showcased trap making skills (10/12), edible plants skills (9/12), and shelter making skills (7/12)_

 _Cole Ro: Showcased pickaxe skills (6/12) and knot tying skills (7/12)_

 _Penny Mei: Showcased throwing knife skills (3/12)_

 _Lou Traceton: Showcased wrestling skills (5/12) and throwing knife skills (2/12)_

 _Athiya Corraba: Showcased crossbow skills (9/12), throwing knife skills (7/12), and shelter making skills (6/12)_

 _Jett Black: Showcased edible plants skills (7/12) and throwing knife skills (6/12)_

 _Astrid Lewis: Showcased hatchet skills (7/12) and edible insects skills (8/12)_

 _Verney Dorsin: Showcased wrestling skills (9/12) and dagger skills (6/12)_

 _Brigitta Funnel: Showcased dagger skills (8/12) and edible plants skills (5/12)_

 _Archie Phyler: Showcased camouflage skills (4/12) and wrestling skills (1/12)_

 _Phana Grotrekk: Showcased edible plants skills (9/12), camouflage skills (10/12), and throwing knife skills (2/12)_

 _Etienne Walker: Showcased wrestling skills (10/12), weight lifting skills (9/12), and pickaxe skills (8/12)_

 _Mallory Undersee: Showcased slingshot skills (6/12) and spear skills (4/12)_

 _Dawson Gundie: Showcased edible insects skills (8/12) and throwing knife skills (4/12)_

 _That's it, Vib. If you need clarification or help deciding some scores, just call me. You have me on speed dial ;). - Balby_

I quickly type in all of the scores on an official sheet and email them to the broadcasting station. Within an hour, my staff in charge of entertainment will have the program ready, and an hour after that the scores will air to the entire nation of Panem. I smile and march out of the study and back into the extensive living room, where Diocletia's 12th birthday party is still going full swing.

I chatter with friends and family and play some Games with my little girl before grabbing a slice of cake and digging in. I guess you can have your cake and eat it to. You just have to know how to do it right.

* * *

 _ **SCORES RECEIVED  
**_

* * *

 _ **Dimity Lessons, 23, Victor of the 493rd Hunger Games and District 8 Citizen/Mentor**_

* * *

I looked over at the 24 kids piled on the giant couch. Our escort, Flavia, was standing the corner, irked by the sheer amount of tributes. My fellow Mentor, cunning, alcoholic Madras, sat next to me, a smile on his lips that didn't reach his cold, grey eyes. He knew we had a better chance, a MUCH better chance, against District 12 than basically any other District. If we'd gone up against 1, or 2, or 4, maybe even 5 or 7, we would've been crushed into the ground, maybe lucky enough to get one or two tributes to the Prelims before they, too, would be crushed into the ground, their blood spilled. I squeezed my eyes shut. Me and Madras were the youngest; the two others, elderly Cotton and Cloth Espenarros, ages 79 and 77, were cousins who won the 438th and 439th Games respectively. They were basically senile and unfit to Mentor. Madras had also been a Career, who too won with brute force. I'd been a Career as well, but I'd been on my own, shunted from the Career pack. I'd taken them out with traps and all, hiding in the tall redwood trees...

I pushed the arena, the screams, the blood from my mind as the hosts of the Hunger Games appeared on screen. There was Pontius Dovetail, the host who handled the interviews. The other host, a woman named Nubia Sandwinder, made announcements into the arena. They, together, hosted the mandatory viewing summary programs each night during the Games, and they did part of the 24-7 commentary on the Games. The rest of the commentary was handled by various other commentators who I couldn't name offhand.

"Hello, Panem!" Pontius boomed, grinning invitingly. "Welcome to this mandatory viewing of the Training Scores the tributes have received! They can receive a score between 1 and 12, and the score tells us about their skill levels."

"Without further ado," Nubia pronounced, batting her eyelashes at the cameras seductively. "The Scores for the First Preliminary of the 20th Quarter Quell."

They disappeared from the screen. The silvery seal of District 8, sporting a textile and a needle, appeared, and Flannelette's beaming face appeared on screen soon after.

 _Flannelette Richards, 1st Set Female - 9_

Everyone clapped for the girl, who grinned exactly like she did on the screen. Her set partner came up next.

 _Roark Taylor, 1st Set Male - 5_

Decent enough for a 13 year old. Onto the second set.

 _Abilene Carron, 2nd Set Female - 6_

The girl shrugged. Okay.

 _Crosshatch Demons, 2nd Set Male - 10_

The pompous Career snarled, grinning, proud.

 _Silky Ianis, 3rd Set Female - 2_

The little, cutesy 12 year old teared up and buried her face in an ally's shoulder as she sobbed.

 _Nylon Griffiths, 3rd Set Male - 9_

Crosshatch grinned and Nylon, who just growled at his friend who'd outwitted him and beat him in the Private Sessions.

 _Matisa Fulton, 4th Set Female - 4_

The girl, Matisa, who Silky was still sobbing on, looked distraught.

 _Henry Camingdon, 4th Set Male - 3_

Henry wailed and ran off to the elevator, riding down to the floor below. District 8 had floors 1-6, and they each had 4 bedrooms; District 12 had floors 7-12. I almost said something but thought against it. If he was going to storm off because of a 3, so be it.

 _Patternia Veil, 5th Set Female - 8_

The girl shrugged. Decent, for a Career still in training.

 _Gingham Drains, 5th Set Male - 7_

The 16 year old grinned, and he was congratulated heavily by his counterparts. The first non-Career to score above a 6.

 _Odessa Crawls, 6th Set Female - 4_

The girl joined Matisa and Silky's teary huddle.

 _Faris Caldwell, 6th Set Male - 8_

We all clapped. A great score for the strong 18 year old.

 _Lilly Cardigan, 7th Set Female - 2_

The 12 year old girl began to sob, and the little girl crying party gained its fourth member.

 _Kinno Mitchel, 7th Set Male - 6_

Kinno got a few high fives for his decent score.

 _Tallie Chett, 8th Set Female - 7_

Everyone looked, surprised, at the little, fiesty 13 year old. She just grinned and winked at the lot of us.

 _Tunis Marbie, 8th Set Male - 8_

Another good score, but he'd been training as a Career anyway.

 _Chenille Markus, 9th Set Female - 6_

More applauding. The girl smiled halfheartedly.

 _Corduroy Damige, 9th Set Male - 5_

His leg had been fully healed, but apparently he was still not very skilled.

 _Jasmine Loat, 10th Set Female - 3_

A 5th girl joined the weeping huddle.

 _Fleece Congrutts, 10th Set Male - 5_

The boy sighed and curled up on the couch, squeezing his eyes shut.

 _Intarsia Peller, 11th Set Female - 7_

I smiled, surprised, at the girl. She just recoiled. Apparently shy.

 _Linen Tobb, 11th Set Male - 4_

The boy growled, annoyed with his low score.

 _Lycra Ostensible, 12th Set Female - 9_

Lycra swore to herself, and Tunis gave her an uneasy look. I was sort of confused. A 9 was a great score, though I thought she'd be capable of a 10, maybe even an 11.

 _Damon Murcee, 12th Set Male - 5_

Damon sighed, shrugging.

"Now, onto District 12!" Pontius and Nubia said together.

* * *

 _ **Freida Dustin, 28, Victor of the 490th Hunger Games and District 12 Citizen/Mentor**_

* * *

"Okay, easy does it," I told Uriel, my withered fellow Mentor. He wasn't terribly old, only in his early to mid 60s, but he'd taken morphling and other drugs for a majority of his life, so his body was in shambles. It also didn't help that he'd been paralyzed from the waist down during his Games. My strong arms lowered him into his sleek Capitol wheelchair that the stylists demanded he use when in the Capitol. Back at home in the Victor's Village of 12, it was just the two of us. His wooden wheelchair served him well enough there.

I was lucky to have a fellow Victor. 12 was notorious for its lack of Bloodbath survivors, not to mention Top 8 entrees, most of all Victors. There usually only happened to be two or three of us per century. In the first 100 years, there was only one, lonely Haymitch Abernathy, Victor of the 2nd Quarter Quell. In the second century, there were three; Coaleen Bastbury from the 112th, Nestor Poles from the 115th (Coaleen and Nestor's Victories were surprisingly close. After their two close Victories, District 12 did not survive the Bloodbath for 12 consecutive years.) The final Victor from the 2nd century was Symone Truette of the 234th. The next Victory was almost a century later, with Thomas Galeforth from the 331st. He was joined by Peony Walsh from the 365th. The 4th Century had three; Kathleen DeMalac from the 407th, who died shortly after Uriel's Victory from drug overdose. Then there's Uriel from the 444th, and then me.

I turned my mind from District 12's bleak history of Victory as the stylists and tributes began to holler for us from the viewing room. The scores we beginning. I swore and quickly wheeled an impatient Uriel into the viewing room as the first face from District 8 appeared, a 9 by the pretty girl's face.

District 8 flew by, and I didn't pay much attention. Then, suddenly, the seal of District 12, the miner's hat, the two crossed pickaxes, the building between the pickaxes, and the railroad beneath it, filled the screen. Then Beautify's face was on the screen. I spotted the girl sitting with the other volunteered Careers, Orrin and Corabelle, in the comfiest looking chairs in the room.

 _Beautify Clarence, 1st Set Female - 9_

Beautify shrugged, mumbling something about "being on the level of those District 8 scumbags." Orrin kissed her on the lips and her annoyed face faded into one of happiness.

 _Orrin Dash, 1st Set Male - 10_

Orrin grinned, flexing his large, muscled arms. A few girls, especially Beautify, his girlfriend, sighed

 _Corabelle Linette, 2nd Set Female - 11_

The room fell quiet, and I could hear the uproar from the District 8's below us. How had the 13 year old girl from 12 outscored the entirety of District 8, and probably the entirety of her own District?! She was dangerous for sure.

 _Rhys Tolling, 2nd Set Male - 5_

That was more standard fare for District 12. Rhys just sighed while the clamor from District 8 below us subsided.

 _Emlee Reigns, 3rd Set Female - 3_

The little girl whimpered. At least she'd gotten higher than most of the 12 year olds from 8, who'd gotten 2s.

 _Jack Ying, 3rd Set Male - 2_

The little 12 year old huffed and buried himself below a few large, plush cushions.

 _Coalette Simon, 4th Set Female - 7_

Everyone congratulated the 18 year old, and her cousin Etienne hugged her. The Careers glared daggers at the girl, and they'd probably be stabbing her with daggers now if they had the option to do so.

 _Hubert Lesher, 4th Set Male - 5_

Hubert sagged into his velvety chair, distraught.

 _Lena Occing, 5th Set Female - 6_

Everyone looked, a little surprised at the girl's decent score. I saw an intelligent glint in her eye and suddenly understood. She was a trickster and a trapper. She would hopefully do well if she avoided the Bloodbath.

 _Kenneth Rings, 5th Set Male - 5_

Kenneth just grunted before stuffing more bread rolls down his throat. The malnourished boy was sure taking advantage of the Capitol's abundance of food.

 _Foragia Cards, 6th Set Female - 7_

Foragia smiled and high fived a few people, presumably allies, before settling into the watch the rest of the program.

 _Cole Ro, 6th Set Male - 6_

Cole let out a sigh of relief. 6 was a good enough score to not be written off as a bloodbath, but not high enough to be considered a threat. Still, his very tall stature would attract unwanted attention to him during the Games, especially during the bloodbath. In the Games, Careers like myself went after those looked strong and those who looked weak. You leave those in between, the average ones, the unnoticeable ones, for later.

 _Penny Mei, 7th Set Female - 3_

Penny wailed, distraught, clutching a friend close.

 _Lou Traceton, 7th Set Male - 3_

Lou sniffed and began to silently cry.

 _Athiya Corraba, 8th Set Female - 8_

The tall, dark skinned girl shared a contented look with Brigitta, who sat next to her. She smiled then at everyone else and thanked us for our warm wishes, while the Careers glared at her rudely. I wanted to slap a little sense into them.

 _Jett Black, 8th Set Male - 6_

Jett sheepishly grinned and accepted some quiet congratulations on a somewhat decent score, at least for District 12.

 _Astrid Lewis, 9th Set Female - 7_

More congratulations, this time for Astrid, who grinned. She stood out, being, surprisingly, the only merchant, non-Seam child from District 12 this year.

 _Verney Dorsin, 9th Set Male - 7_

Good scores for the past two sets. Verney is cheered for heartily. The Careers had given up their glaring by this point.

 _Brigitta Funnel, 10th Set Female - 7_

Brigitta smiled at Athiya before making her face emotionless and ignoring the congratulations from those around her.

 _Archie Phyler, 10th Set Male - 1_

Archie moaned and stuffed his face in a pillow. He'd gotten the lowest score of the night.

 _Phana Grotrekk, 11th Set Female - 4_

Phana didn't even react to her actually decent-for-her-age score, daydreaming.

 _Etienne Walker, 11th Set Male - 9_

Everyone looked at the big, muscled miner, who just ignored everyone and looked at Coalette and hugged her. Beautify looked mortified that he'd gotten the same score as her.

 _Mallory Undersee, 12th Set Female - 5_

Mallory bit her lip, unsure of how to respond to a 5.

 _Dawson Gundie, 12th Set Male - 5_

Dawson sighed, and then the program was over as a seal flashed across the screen during the anthem. Then the screen fell dead black, and we all retreated to bed.

* * *

 _ **INTERVIEWS  
**_

* * *

 ** _Madras Cardsing, 54, Victor of the 464th Hunger Games and District 8 Citizen/Mentor_**

* * *

"Welcome, one and all, to the Interviews of this special 20th Quarter Quell, this coveted 500th Hunger Games!" Pontius shouted gleefully. I tried not to snort at him as I reclined in my chair. Dimity, the beaut, was sitting next to me in our small, suspended box that hung on the side of the large auditorium where the interviews were hosted by Pontius Dovetail. She was dressed in an elegant red gown, and my tux had red embellishments that matched Dimity's dress and my orange-ish red hair. Dimity and I shared a look. Dimity had heard the same voice 7 years ago; I'd heard the voice of Croatia Donahugh, a monster of a woman with a wide mouth and ravenous eyes. The thought of her painted face, curled fingers nails, and roving eyes made me squirm in my seat.

"Our first tribute, from District 8...our lovely Career, Flannelette Richards!"

Flannelette waltzed out onto the stage, dressed in a revealing silvery dress. I rolled my eyes. She was pretty, sure, but recently our Career tributes had started becoming carbon copies of 1's and 2's. In my time and before that, outer District Careers had grit and integrity, and weren't ruthless or self obsessed. At least not usually. But pride in District 8 was gone. I could swear that Flannelette had sometimes wondered why she wasn't born in 1. With her luscious blonde hair and curvy figure, I would place her in 1 as well.

Flannelette's interview was nice and seductive, the way she'd planned it, and she twirled from the audience in her skimpy dress, much to the delight of some of the perverted men in the crowd. I just hid my eyes as she put her body on display for men thrice her age so she might have a better chance of surviving the Games.

Roark followed her, dressed in a black tux. His interview was drab and boring compared to Flannelette's flirtatious one, although Pontius managed to feed him a joke that made a quarter of the crowd giggle. He'd done decently, as normal District 8 tributes go, at least.

Abilene shuffled onto the stage, barely able to keep her balance in her heels. She was dressed in a pretty lavender gown, and she was nice enough. Her interview was heartwarming, but I knew it would be forgettable compared to the others.

Crosshatch strutted onto the stage, grinning fiercely, chuckling. He was dressed in a mesh longsleeved shirt that showed his sculpted upper body. His legs were thankfully, at least to me, covered by slate gray slacks. A red tie hung from around his neck, resting between his pecs. He was sexy and ravishing to the women of the audience, and the men were impressed by his brute strength and hilarity. Crosshatch had dominated the interviews so far, and he'd probably be one of the best for the entire night.

Little Silky, dressed in a flowery pale green dress, crept onto the stage hesitantly. The crowd thought she was adorable, so that helped. She might get a cracker for her efforts if she managed to survive the bloodbath, which I doubted would happen.

Nylon nearly outdid Crosshatch. He had the same outfit on, with the mesh longsleeve shirt and the slacks, although his was all electric blue. He looked stunning, and we was just as funny and endearing as his counterpart, friend, and ally Crosshatch. Crosshatch's only advantage was that he'd debuted before Nylon, so Nylon's interview seemed a little deja vu like to the audience.

Matisa was a shivering and nervous mess, dressed in a navy dress that clinged to her body unappealingly. She stuttered out her answers to Pontius's questions and looked enormously relieved when her interview was over.

Henry was just as unimpressive as Matisa before him, clad in an all white tux. His eyes bugged out when he stepped on stage and he barely made it to the chair sitting across from Pontius without fainting. He barely could answer Pontius as he was so paralyzed in fear. To put it lightly, his interview was a disaster.

Patternia came out next. She was dressed in a fiery orange dress and was grinning widely. She talked about being part of the Careers and her partial training, and it all came off as cocky and prideful but exactly how it was planned. She seemed like a stereotypical Career, and that was what the nation and the rest of the tributes needed to believe she was if she were going to last in these Games.

Gingham came out in khaki pants and a cute gingham dress shirt. He was handsome and the crowd was swooning for him as he innocently and almost naively answered Pontius' questions, also cracking a few jokes that made the crowd roar. He was great at this for sure, and he'd scored himself some sponsors that night through his wonderful and unconventional interview.

Odessa followed two stunning tributes with a lackluster interview. She was not too nervous or anything, everything about her was just dull. Her dress was black with tiny white polka dots, but it didn't stand out, and her speech was drab and slow. Pontius seemed relieved when she trudged off of the stage.

Faris was striking, his golden blonde hair styled with gel. He was dressed in a navy suit and he's handsome and the crowds were swooning even more than they did for Gingham, though he didn't have the same impression as Nylon and Crosshatch. Faris was strong and didn't speak a super lot, but his voice was deep and silky and his smile made some of the girls in the audience want to faint. He also had a successful interview.

Tiny Lilly came out next, giggling as she twirled in her feathery magenta skirt and blouse. The crowd clapped as she danced around the stage, only leaving a short time to quickly and breathlessly answer some questions from Pontius before she pranced off. Everyone knew the little girl with a 2 had no chance in the arena, and I was happy they'd let her dance. She should enjoy herself before they all kill her.

Kinno was in a sunshine yellow suit with a black tie. He looked okay, though he was a little put off by the brightness of his suit. He stumbled through a majority of his speech and didn't leave an amazing impression. He'd sort of screwed himself over; if he'd managed to get a few sponsors from interviews, he could've survived at least this Prelim, with a 6 and all. Now he was probably screwed.

Tallie slunk onto the stage after Kinno, dressed in an aquamarine dress. She smiled menacingly as she sat, and Pontius immediately began asking her how she'd scored a 7 at the meager age of 13. Tallie wouldn't reveal her secrets, which was smart. She had her mind on survival. Her interview was good enough, but the fact that she, a diminuitve, unassuming girl, had gotten a 7, had probably already got her a handful of eager sponsors.

Tunis followed Tallie, dressed in a slate gray suit and tie. He was tall and muscly and was quite a looker. His laugh was throaty and deep as he sent the crowd into fits of giggles with his jokes. He was kind and funny and the crowd ate it up. There were so many great tributes this year. If half of them had been in a regular year, they'd all have a wonderful chance. Sadly, this was a wretched Quarter Quell, the worst yet, and their chances of survival were slim to none.

Chenille was dressed in a semi-transparent, lacy white dress. She looked beautiful, with her mousy brown hair all curled. She was adorable and innocent in her interview, just as she had been told to be. She was a good actress, it seemed. If I remembered right, she was a frequent member of District 8's community theater productions. Sadly, her talent would probably go to waste. She was beautiful and had scored a few sponsors, but I doubted she had the raw grit to make it out of this Prelim, not to mentioned the Semi's and the Finals.

Corduroy was dressed in a baby blue suit and tie, and he seemed nervous. He'd earned a reputation of being a ditz (that's probably how he originally broke his leg before he was Reaped). He has this weird black brace contraption around his leg he has to wear to hold his almost fully healed leg in place. Most of my attention is on the weird device and I don't really hear much of his interview. I only realize it's over when he stands and walks away.

Little Jasmine was garbed in a dark green silk dress that seemingly floated around her tiny frame. She twirled for the audience and laughed happily before sitting down and having a chatty, enjoyable time answering Pontius' questions. When the interview was over, she did a little cartwheel (thank god someone had thought to put leggings on under the dress). Then she was waving goodbye and she was gone.

Fleece followed her, and he was nowhere near as enthusiastic as his young 12 year old counterpart from before him. He was dressed in a baby pink tux and did not seem very happy about that fact, or the fact the pink blush was piled on his fat, rosy cheeks. He was annoyed and whiny his entire interview and made some complaints about inferior Avoxes that had helped him or something. I usually never hated my tributes, as they were sentenced to death anyway, but I felt a glimmer of something deep down saying "this kid deserves this."

Intarsia looked stunning, the shimmering, almost moving rainbow colored dress looking beautiful against her ebony skin. She was beautiful, but seemed to not really know how gorgeous she looked at that moment. She willingly answered all of Pontius' question without a single verbal stumble, and her interview was well executed and had probably gained her several sponsors. Intarsia had done a good job.

Linen was already sobbing in fear by the time he reached the seat across from Pontius. Pontius consoled the poor boy, who whimpered about having severe stage fright. He eventually calmed down enough to answer a single question before his time was up. Then he stood and sprinted off the stage, showing the most effort he'd put into this entire pre-Games so far.

Then there was Lycra Ostensible. Lycra, Lycra, Lycra. She floated out of the wings in her billowing white dress, her silky blonde hair braided and twisted up in a bun. Her stunning blue eyes pierced the souls of the audience, and she glided forward in silvery heels, the bracelets and necklaces and rings she wore all glinting in the auditorium's manufactured light. The crowd was roaring for her before she even sat down, and when she began to talk, to make jokes effortlessly, to endear the entire nation without extensive effort. She was the best so far, the best I'd seen in years. If this had been a regular year, this girl would have the Games in the bag. Totally in the bag. I growled in frustration to myself. Now she would probably not have a chance, not against the legions, made of dozens of Inner Careers that would sweep her off her feet during the Semis and Finals. This girl could have won it all. Now she has little chance, but more chance than those poor Districts that will have to go up against 1, 2, and 4. I felt terrible for those who would have to go up against the mighty Inner Careers.

After Lycra was our last tribute, stunted Damon. He was in a black and white tux and was nothing memorable. He was nervous and had a below average interview. That, coupled with that fact that everyone was still talking about Lycra for the majority of his interview, meant that he was probably going to be the most forgettable tribute of the night. Poor kid.

As Damon walked off and the first kid from 12 walked on, I grabbed a bottle of scotch and began to drink. My duties were over. Now I could enjoy life and not have to worry about herding around 24 kids. As selfish as it sounded, now I had time for me.

* * *

 _ **Uriel Fless, 72, Victor of the 444th Hunger Games and District 12 Citizen/Mentor**_

* * *

"Now, for our District 12 tributes!" Pontius sang as Beautify sashayed out onto the stage to sit next to him.

I grunted. Traitorous girl, acting like a Career. I mumbled something about the girl to Freida that the Capitol programs would've bleeped out. She rolled her eyes, but I could tell she agreed. They were all becoming District 1 copycats, and worse. Freida straightened my wheelchair so I had a better view over the edge of the viewing box, not that I wanted a better view of the promiscuous looking girl. Thank God Freida had been charged with the...challenging girl. At least she had a boyfriend in Orrin, so she couldn't be too terribly bad in her...ways.

Beautify flirted with the crowd and told of her fledgling love with Orrin Dash, the only male Career from our District this year. I could see him blushing from the wings, as if their undying love crap wasn't planned or something. I just rolled my eyes as Beautify displayed her body to the Capitol and hoped to survive through that.

After Beautify, Orrin waltzed out, grinning. They shared a passionate and sloppy kiss that made me mumble more profanities to Freida. Then he sat, straightening his dark gray suit and black tie. He and Pontius chatted it up, joking and firing insults at deposed politicians. Orrin's father was a closer adviser to the mayor, so Orrin knew the whos and wheres of the Capitol like the back of his hand. He was playing the crowd with his knowledge, and it was admittedly brilliant to make them feel like he was one of them.

After Orrin was the girl everyone had been waiting for, little Corabelle Linette, the 13 year old who had outscored all 47 other competitors with an 11. I was in fact impressed myself; the next highest score had been Orrin's 10, and everyone had put him at a 9 in the pre-scores betting circles. Vibius Carstellan must've just been feeling nice and gave him a 10 instead, or to mess with us or something like that. Anyway, Corabelle was dressed in a dazzling violet dress. She showed it off and had an enigmatic interview which was hard to describe but enjoyable all the same. It wasn't as good as Lycra Ostensible from 8 (man, that girl was Victor material), but it was above average for sure, in the Top 4 so far in the night probably.

After three interesting interviews, Rhys Tolling soured the entire affair, bringing it to the standard District 12 level as he stumbled on stage, nervous and sweaty, in a large black tux. He managed to stammer out answers to Pontius' questions and almost fell flat on his face when he tried to leave the stage. Now that was what usually happened during District 12 interviews.

Emlee, dressed in a flowing white gown, followed him out. She was short and deathly skinny, even after several days of eating very well in the Capitol. She was adorable and made the crowd "aww" but nothing much else. She'd managed to score a 3, better than most of the rest of the 12 year olds this year, but a 3 was still terrible regardless. She was cute and that was it. No one would be putting money on her unless they were high or drunk; she was practically dead already.

Jack had to be carried on stage, as he was weeping and crying for his mother. I couldn't even watch his disaster of an interview; I plugged my ears, unwilling to listen to his desperate whimpers and cries for him mother. Freida told me when the ordeal was over, and I looked up. Jack was gone, replaced by a tall, striking girl.

Coalette Simon was dressed in a slim black dress and she looked rather gorgeous. She strutted over to the chair across from Pontius, and they had a funny and interesting enough interview. She was comical and a bit of a ditz, but in a funny way, not a dangerous way, so it was okay. It was a refreshing reprieve from the disaster of Jack before her and the several other disasters that would ensue afterward.

Hubert followed her. Dressed in a pea green suit with a dark green tie, he looked a little like a fat blob of retch. He'd also thrown up while practicing interviews. After cleaning it up, I'd set him on his way. No one could help him. Even though his stomach was empty, he managed to conjure some bile from the deepest reaches of his stomach and regurgitate it all over himself after nervously stuttering out an answer to Pontius' first question. Thank God it didn't hit Pontius, or Hubert would be blown off his plate the second before the Games were to begin. The nervous wreck of a boy was hauled away, and there was a quick intermission wherein two Avoxes mopped up the rest of the bile.

The program returned to feature Lena Occing, the mysterious and unassuming girl who'd gotten a 6 despite her apparent weakness. She was dressed in a lime green gossamer dress that was sort of pretty, just like her. She was quiet and shy and not very memorable, and that's what she wanted. I had a feeling she would be a threat, a hider who would sneak around, forgotten, only to leap out and end the Games in a violent, surprising manner. If she was smart, she'd try and get through at least the Prelims without revealing her true intentions and skills.

Kenneth followed Lena. He was skinny beyond belief, so skinny that it made even my slim Seam form quiver. His stylist had tried to disguise his nauseating skinniness by putting him in a large, puffy brown suit, but it hung limply on his stick figure frame. He sat and had a decent interview, but I couldn't stop staring at his skinny form. He must've been a day away from utter starvation on the streets before he was Reaped. I'd seen people with bodies like his. They were dead people, who hadn't managed to steal enough or had lost their job or had just been thrown to the side, discarded. This boy might even see the Hunger Games as a miracle; limitless food, and a bloody but swift end compared to the elongated agony of starvation. Overall, Kenneth's interview was okay, but not very memorable.

15 year old Foragia was next. She was dressed in a patchwork dress with green and red squares that was sort of unflattering but also interesting at the same time. Pontius leaped right into questions asking how she'd managed to get a 7, but she brushed him off rather rudely, instead talking about her life back home. She was brash, and I liked that, but the Capitol wouldn't like that. They don't like rebellious tributes. If she made one off comment during the Games, she wouldn't be returning home. I'd seen the Gamemakers condemn rebellious tributes before. They had various methods, but they ended in one thing for the offensive tribute, and that was death.

Cole was a beanpole, tall and skinny, but not as skinny as Kenneth. He towered over Pontius, even sitting, and the crowd seemed delighted by his freakish height. It gave me a distant feeling of being at a circus and going into the "freaks" section. The impossibly skinny boy, the brash, quilt-like girl, and now the skyscraper man. His interview was good enough, though the only reason he'd be remembered by some was because of his height.

While the past couple of interviews had been moderate successes, everything started to go downhill once Penny Mei stepped onto the stage. She was dressed in a unflatteringly tight emerald dress covered in lighter green sequins. It would've been cute if the girl wasn't utterly fat. She was also sweating rivers and her voice was shaky as she hesitantly answered Pontius' questions about home and such. It was relieving when she waddled off of the stage.

Lou was in a similar state as Penny, dressed in a maroon suit and tie that might be supposed to mimic blood. It would have looked good on a ruthless Career, but it just looked out of place on the emaciated frame of a 13 year old boy. Lou stuttered out his answers and looked supremely relieved to get off of the stage when Pontius declared that their time for his interview had dried up. Lou dashed off the stage, letting the next tribute come on.

Athiya strode out next, in a pretty chartreuse ballgown. Her silky black hair was styled in a variety of braids that were wrapped around her heads, and she looked beautiful. Her interview was good, she had a talent for playing off of the emotions of the audience. If her outfit had been as stunning as Lycra or Crosshatch's, her wonderful interview could possibly have rivaled their's, but it was not to be, it seemed.

Jett strode out in a, well, jet black tux that blended well with his ashy skin. He looked dashing and mysterious and that angle fit him well. The moment he sat down across from Pontius on the stage, he began cracking jokes. The entirety of the interview was Pontius and Jett bantering back and forth, flinging joke after joke at the crowd. The audience gobbled it up, and I was rather impressed by the 15 year old jokester.

Astrid Lewis waltzed onto the stage, dressed in a lacy baby blue ballgown. She did a little waltz with herself before sitting down across from Pontius. Her pale, nearly porcelain skin and sandy blonde hair stood out from the 23 other Seam kids from 12 that had and would grace the stage that night. She was admittedly pretty, and she was cute and honest during her interview with Pontius. I liked the girl, but she might be a little too innocent for these Games.

Verney followed her. He was dressed in a striking tan suit that was plain but interesting and daring in a strange way. He was mysterious, at least that was supposedly his act. But he dropped it soon after sitting down across from Pontius. He became brutally honest, and the crowd fell for him. It was a great interview, and he had a real chance at this. A 7 and a great interview, along with some good looks, and he could make it pretty far.

Brigitta glided out of the wings as Verney departed with a jovial wave. She was dressed in a flowing golden dress that billowed around her like a cloud of liquid gold. She twirled as she descended into the seat across from Pontius, and Pontius clapped. She was pretty, though she looked a little bit younger than 17, maybe 16-ish. She was cute and funny in her interview. It was amazing; we'd had 5 great interviews in a row. That changed the moment Brigitta stepped off of the stage.

Archie Phyler had scored a 1. He reminded the nation of that fact while going on a full out, whiny rant about "I deserved a 12" or some shit, I didn't even listen after I heard the skinny 13 year old squirt raise his voice to an annoyingly high octave. I squirmed in my wheelchair, uncomfortable and annoyed like the entirety of Panem. Everyone except Archie himself, who was still "angry" and "had more to say", was relieved when his interview was over.

Phana followed Archie, and she was better. She was dressed in a bubblegum pink dress and she seemed to be half day dreaming as she slowly and cutely answered Pontius' questions. She told him that she was a good runner and a good hider and that she was going to paint and play with all the other kids. She almost seemed insane, but she was just a naive little girl, that was all, who thought this really was just a simple Games. I felt so bad for her. She had a better chance than many of young kids, but she still wouldn't make it far, which was sad.

Etienne was Phana's polar opposite. He was tall and muscled, not petite and willowy, and he was dressed in a steely blue tux. He was handsome, striking, and memorable, just in his looks. His interview wasn't the best; his answers were short and concise, but it was still a decent interview, and it would be remembered by most of the audience, especially since it was one of the final interviews, and because he was so striking in appearance.

Mallory followed. She was dressed in a bright orange dress, and she loved it apparently. She pranced around a bit, making the audience laugh, before settling in to answer Pontius' questions. It was one of the better interviews from a younger tribute; she was kind and polite, things Capitol sponsors appreciated. She also wasn't terribly bad looking, so that was good as well. Mallory left a decent impression.

Dawson ended the interviews with a lackluster finish. He was dressed in an eye catching tux, several shades of blue mixing together. That should have given a tribute that wanted to do well a great platform, but Dawson decided to dive off into oblivion instead of trying to use the platform to elevate himself. He was snippy and cross the entire interview, and was cruel and made a mean joke about Pontius himself that appalled the nation. He walked off of the stage with a minute left, and Pontius, startled, collected himself.

"And...that was the interviews for the first Preliminary, with Districts 8 and 12, of the 500th Hunger Games, the 20th Quarter Quell! Goodnight, Panem!"

Freida, dressed in a nice electric blue dress, helped push my wheelchair out of the box. She was a good girl. I had no idea what I'd do without her help.

* * *

 **A/N: There it is! It's LONG (like 10,000 words. How was the other one only 2,000?!). I know it's big, but I didn't want to have 2 separate chapters, so I just made one bigger chapter to wrap up the pre-Games stuff. Yes, this is moving fast, but we have to repeat this process _8_ more times, so I wanted to get it over with. Also, the Games will be longer than 2 chapters, I promise. :)**

 **Also, I had this thought for the Games; you can sponsor if you like. When the Games start, just add sponsor gifts in your reviews and I'll send them in. Don't do anything crazy and don't send a 12 year old who go golden, ultra magical broadsword, because that would cost an entire District worth's of money and there is no way a 12 year old would get something like that. But I digress. You can sponsor when the Games start (bloodbath next chapter!) with anything realistic that you want.**

 **I will be going away from the 16th-23rd on vacation and will have little to no access to internet, so I won't be able to update between those dates.**

 **Any comments? Please review with your thoughts!**

 **(Bluffs, yes, I am a robot! Just kidding, I just have WAY too many ideas and not enough time.)**

 **P.S. Thanks for all the supportive feedback!**

 **P.P.S. I'm going to be trying to taking a short break from this story to attempt to wrap up Oceanside, though that might take quite a while. And I might not take a break honestly, since the bloodbath is next chapter.**

 **Until next time,**

 **Tracee**


	5. 8-12 Prelims: The Bloodbath

**A/N: Here's the bloodbath! Yes, it's only two POVs because I didn't want to write the 30 something POVs of every bloodbath survivor, and I also wanted to get out another chapter since it has been 2 plus weeks since the last update (Sorry!) Here it is, and I hope it's satisfying!**

* * *

 ** _Brigitta Funnel, 17, District 12 9th Female_**

* * *

I board my hovercraft, alone. None of us are allowed to interact before the Games began, so we ride to the arena separately. That doesn't matter to me, though. Me, Athiya, Lycra, and Tunis have our plan down. I glance down at my token with a smirk. It's just my dad's dog tags from Peacekeeper training, nothing terribly important to me, and not to him either. Good thing my token, along with the other three's, are useless and don't mean much to us, or this plan would not work very well. Lycra has a spool of red thread, Tunis has a metal bracelet, and Athiya's family had nothing besides a lump of coal to give her. Athiya's token will work the best.

I feel terrible about the excitement that pops up among the feelings of nervousness and fear that are coursing through my veins. My teeth chatter mildly and my hands are quivering uncontrollably. Nerves. Fear. Excitement. But no worry, really. Today will go smoothly. It must.

The hovercraft starts to descend, and my stomach flips and flops and I shake even more. Damn, can we just get in the arena now?! My entire body is shaking crazily. Nervous, nervous, nervous, scared, scared, scared. The excitement is fading as I truly realize that I'm actually going in the Hunger Games. I am almost certainly going to die. Shit. I'm going to die. But I won't go out without a bang. I chuckle a little bit to myself at my own joke.

The hovercraft touches down and gradually slows down. The door leading out of the hull opens, and two Peacekeepers march in and escort me out, their hands clamped tight around my forearms. I am not bothered; these guys are just like my dad. Dad. He's the only thing I have; my mom died giving birth to my little sister Ligeia, and Liggie ran off into the woods a couple of years ago and is as good as dead. If I'm gone...Dad will be alone. I hope, if I die, he finds someone that loves him like I do.

The Peacekeepers tug me underground, into the catacombs. The only thing I notice of the outside world before we descend is that the air temperature is average. That doesn't necessarily mean that the arena will be mild, but it is a possible clue.

I remember what my father told me in the room of the Justice Building. The room was small and cramped, as they'd had to split the rooms into multiple rooms so the families of all of the Reaped tributes could say goodbye in peace.

 _"Observe and record everything, Brigitta. This is important. Stay alert. Do not trust anyone. Do not ignore anything; even a small bug or minimally off colored plant could mean death in the arena. The Gamemakers are cruel people. They do act with mercy. And with 48 tributes, they will not hesitate to unleash some nasty things on you. Be safe, darling. Be safe."_

I take his words to heart. So I record that the arena might be mild. I remember to not trust the others explicitly; in fact, I will be the last one to enact our little plan, just to make sure that they're all cooperating. I will take everything around me into account. I will follow my father's words to the last breath.

The Peacekeepers shove me into a room and lock the door. It's dank and damp and dark. Someone flicks on a light; my designer, Froua. She's a nice enough lady dyed entirely pink. Like, even her irises are cotton candy pink. She hugs me and tells me that she believes in me, that I'll definitely do well. Then she hands me my arena outfit; thin black athletic pants, a thin coal black t-shirt, and a, once again, thin jacket that's grey and black. So my prediction of the arena being mild seems to be plausible at this point.

"Fifteen seconds till launch," an automated voice beeps. Froua smiles and ties up my black hair with my token, the scrap of white fabric. I smile weakly at her and climb into the tube in the corner of the room. Suddenly the floor begins to rise, and I wistfully trail my fingers against the glass as Froua and the room disappear. I'm in total blackness for two seconds, and then I'm peering into the arena as the tube disappears.

The Cornucopia sits in a clearing of a thick deciduous forest. Smoke churns from some structure in the west, hidden in the trees, and a mountain littered with caves lies to the east. The rest of it is all trees, and even the mountain is partially cloaked by the thick forest.

I look around at the 47 others. We've now fully risen.

 _60\. 59. 58. 57. 56. 55. 54. 53. 52. 51._

I spot Lycra, seven pedestals to my left. Tunis is four pedestals to Lycra's left. Athiya is nine pedestals to my right. Okay, we're evenly spaced enough.

 _50\. 49. 48. 47. 46. 45. 44. 43. 42. 41._

On my left is a little quivering boy from 8, Linen or something like that. To my right is the tall, imposing boy from my District named Cole. I sadly decide to throw my scrap of fabric towards Cole. I undo a clip from my hair and wrap the fabric around that so it has more weight. Cole eyes me uneasily, but I ignore him.

 _40\. 39. 38. 37. 36. 35. 34. 33. 32. 31._

Lycra has two random kids by her; she's leaning towards the one girl, Chenille, I think. Tunis also has two random kids, and is fingering his metal bracelet as he eyes the boy from my District named Dawson. And Athiya's grinning wildly; Patternia, a Career, stands to her right. I grin back at her.

 _30\. 29. 28. 27. 26. 25. 24. 23. 22. 21._

I see my weapon of choice, a large serrated dagger, sitting next to a loaded pack near the mouth of the Cornucopia. I bite my lip and glance at Lycra. She glances towards the mountain, and I discreetly nod. She does the same with Tunis and Athiya as I stare down the Cornucopia. My grip tightens around my chunk of fabric and the brass pin it is rolled tight around. I feel bad for Cole. I feel terrible.

 _19\. 18. 17. 16. 15. 14. 13. 12. 11. 10._

A little girl, named Jasmine I think, falls to her knees, weeping. She almost, almost, almost falls off, but she manages to regain her balance. Poor thing. I turn my attention back to the pack and the dagger. Distraction, dart in, grab supplies, dart out. Simple.

 _9\. 8. 7. 6. 5. 4._

I calm my nerves. It's all okay. All okay. My lies calm me enough for me to raise my arm shakily. Coleis staring at me intently now. Poor boy. I really wish you could live, but it is not meant to be. We need a distraction, Cole. I'm so sorry.

 _3\. 2._

I throw the fabric at Cole's feet. BOOM!BOOM!BOOM!BOOM! All together four tributes are blown up; Cole, Chenille, Patternia, and Dawson rain back down on us as smoke wafts from the open holes where they once stood.

 _1._

Everyone is so shocked and distracted that I make it to the pack and dagger before anyone else even moves. Lycra scoops up a pack and a thick iron sword, Tunis grabs a warhammer and a first aid kit, and Athiya only manages to grab her weapon of choice, a crossbow and six bolts. As we run out, everyone bursts to live, shaking themselves from the shock of the sudden deaths. A boy, Hubert I think, runs right at me, yelling war cries. It's much too easy to knife him in the gut before running off towards the cavern riddled mountain.

As screams and pleads and blood fill the air, all four of us are already in the forest. Beautify from 12 tried to shoot us with a bow, but both arrows missed, thankfully. Flannelette didn't get her bow, poor thing. I glance back just in time to see her stab Beautify in the temple with a dagger and take the bow. Killing your fellow Careers, eh? She shoves the bloody dagger in a dead boy's hand before anyone else notices. I just chuckle as we leave the clearing fully.

We dash through the woods, jumping over logs and branches, making sure to tread lightly and not leave too many footprints. After about an hour, we reach the base of the mountain. We're panting and tired, and we find a small spring near the mountain that we find after a half hour's search for water. We drink freely after purifying it with some iodine we found in Lycra's pack. Then we lay out the rest of our supplies; two empty water bottles, a dozen packets of jerky and half a dozen sleeves of crackers, two packets of dried fruit, a rope, a sleeping bag, a needle and thread, a mirror (Really?!), and an extra t-shirt, along with our weapons and Tunis's first aid kit, which is packed with bandages and antiseptic. Looks like we're set up.

We climb a little bit up the mountain and enter one of the caverns as the sun begins to set. Inside, we find mining equipment and piles of coal. Just like home. Swell. I guess that maybe this mining mountain represents District 12, so whatever is belching smog on the other side of the arena (probably a factory) represents District 8. I want to find out if my suspicion is true, but I know it's smart to hide. Being confident and roving around in the open is a fool's act.

I take the first watch duty, and I look out at the arena. As the sun disappears over the horizon, the cannons begin to boom, and I count them in my head.

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOM!

Eighteen tributes dead. Four of them are the tributes we blew up at the beginning of the Game. A fifth is the Hubert boy I knifed in the gut. And a sixth is Beautify Clarence, the Career who Flannelette murdered for the only true bow in the Cornucopia. Stupid girl. There's 30 of us left now.

We all crowd at the lip of the cave as darkness takes a firm hold on the arena. We don't light a fire, as we're warm enough. Athiya starts shivering, and she puts on the extra t-shirt. We finally cave and split a packet of jerky between the four of us as the anthem plays. We munch up our food as we stare expectantly at the sky. Soon the faces, with their names and Districts scrawled beneath in blocky lettering, fill the night sky.

 _Henry Camingdon, District 8 4th Male_

 _Patternia Veil, District 8 5th Female_

 _Odessa Crawls, District 8 6th Female_

 _Lilly Cardigan, District 8 7th Female_

 _Chenille Markus, District 8 9th Female_

 _Corduroy Damige, District 8 9th Male_

 _Jasmine Loat, District 8 10th Female_

 _Fleece Congrutts, District 8 10th Male_

 _Linen Tobb, District 8 11th Male_

 _Beautify Clarence, District 12 1st Female_

 _Jack Ying, District 12 3rd Male_

 _Hubert Lesher, District 12 4th Male_

 _Kenneth Rings, District 12 5th Male_

 _Cole Ro, District 12 6th Male_

 _Penny Mei, District 12 7th Female_

 _Lou Traceton, District 12 7th Male_

 _Archie Phyler, District 12 10th Male_

 _Dawson Gundie, District 12 12th Male_

I'm not surprised by most of the kills, though everyone else gasps when Beautify's face glitters in the sky. I don't make a comment. Seeing Cole's face and Hubert's face is bittersweet, but I brush off any feeling. If I want to survive, I have to kill. That's just how it is. That's just how it is.

I return to my watch, dagger gripped tightly in my hand, as the other three settle down to sleep. I turn and see Lycra with one eye half open. I smile at her weakly. Lycra's smart. She's very smart, and very strong, too.

I hate that I think about when I should dispose of her as I lean against the mouth of the coal cavern.

* * *

 ** _Flannelette Richards, 17, District 8 1st Female_**

* * *

BOOM!BOOM!BOOM!BOOM!

I'm frozen in place in shock as four plumes of blood, guts, and smoke fill the area around the Cornucopia. I only realize that the chimes have rung when I spot the four who orchestrated this event gathering supplies and dashing away.

Several others have started running forward, and I sprint. I watch Beautify pick up the only bow. I hiss at her. She fires two arrows at the disappearing quartet. One of them has stabbed Hubert, who lies on the ground, dead, a big knife wound in his gut.

I glance around at the others; Crosshatch and Nylon are teaming up on two young, screaming girls named Jasmine and Lilly, Orrin is chasing a flabby girl named Penny, and Corabelle is picking through the supplies, looking for shurikens. I make my move, picking up a dagger and quickly digging into the bitch's temple. Beautify's dead in moments; she doesn't even see that I killed her. Damn! I forgot to look her in the eyes. Shit. I quickly shove the dagger in Hubert's hand and make it look like the boy killed her. I scream and run, playing the stupid, cute girl act. Orrin is appalled, and Faris from my District almost takes him down with a scythe. I shoot an arrow at Faris, and it hits him in the shoulder. Faris grabs a pack and runs.

Lilly and Jasmine are now dead at the hands of Crosshatch, and Nylon has just decapitated Odessa. Corabelle finds some shurikens and leaps into action, flinging one into the head of a weakling named Archie, I think. Orrin has killed Penny and then kills Kenneth in anger, and I fire an arrow in a limping Corduroy's head. He goes down in a spray of blood, and he spasms on the ground a bit. I grin.

Crosshatch digs his sword into little Jack, smiling for some reason, and Nylon makes a show of butchering Linen. Corabelle efficiently throws a shuriken into Henry's forehead. I spot a running boy, Fleece, I think, who has a bright orange pack and a sword that he cannot possibly wield. Two missed arrows; a third lands in the base of his neck and kills him in seconds. I smirk a little bit, tossing my blonde hair over my shoulder.

Two boys, Lou and Kinno, grapple for a dagger and a pack some distance from the Cornucopia. We all gather and watch as Kinno throttles Lou before running off. We don't go after him; we do have to make a show for the audience, and slaughtering Kinno should be a spectacular thing to watch.

We realize that Lycra hasn't joined us; the deserting bitch, she ran off with that oaf Tunis from my District and two little skanks from her own District that I cannot even name. (I can name them, I know everyone's name; I studied while on the train. I just refuse to utter their accursed names.)

We gather and build a fire; we'll assemble the supplies into a pile later tomorrow. We eat and chat and Orrin mourns the death of Beautify vocally, walking off to go cry alone inside the Cornucopia. I roll my eyes. Weakling. I should have killed him, too.

The 18 cannons boom, and the faces fill the sky later on. Nylon takes first watch, and I curl up next to Crosshatch, falling asleep quickly.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you enjoyed it! Any surprise deaths? Who do you think will die next?**

 **Here's just a kill list:**

 **Crosshatch (3): Lilly, Jasmine, and Jack**

 **Flannelette (3): Beautify, Corduroy, and Fleeece**

 **Nylon (2): Odessa and Linen**

 **Corabelle (2): Archie and Henry**

 **Orrin (2): Kenneth and Penny**

 **Brigitta (2): Cole and Hubert**

 **Lycra (1): Chenille**

 **Athiya (1): Patternia**

 **Tunis (1): Dawson**

 **Kinno (1): Lou**

 **Hope you enjoyed it! (And Declan, hope I satisfied your want for a Brigitta POV!)**

 **Until Next Time,**

 **Tracee**


	6. 8-12 Prelims: Day 2

_**Silky Ianis, 12, District 8 3rd Female**_

* * *

Tears creep pitifully out of my eyes, coursing down my cheeks in thick strands and splashing onto my plasticy black boots as I run forward. I haven't stopped moving since I leaped away from the Bloodbath without even a crumb of bread or a shard of metal. I have _nothing_. Already, my stomach gurgles and growls and begs for food. I manage to push away the urge for now. There are eighteen people who can no longer feel hunger in this arena.

They are dead. And I am alive, so I must be grateful.

Ten minutes later, my insistent belly makes me nibble at a sap covered pine cone. It gives nothing of substance and is probably somehow poisonous, but the act of gnawing at an object quiets my stomach just enough for me to be able to think right.

The air around me is choked with smog and dust, and I feel strangely at home. The air is exactly like the air at home. Sour to the tongue and abrasive to the throat and lungs, it's loaded with all sorts of chemicals used to make clothing that marks our average life expectancy one of the lowest in Panem. I thought I'd escaped this life for a bit. No more icky air. I'd die with cool, crisp air in my lungs, at least. But no. They Gamemakers have decided to plop down two rows of four giant textile factories right in the middle of this swell, pretty forest.

I turn on my heel and walk away from the area. Why would I stay when the air quality is so much better a dozen paces away? But rustles and loud footsteps in the factory clearing draws me back to the rows of fabric factories.

I cower in the shadows as I spot the girl, all alone, stagger around helplessly. She's from my District, the 2nd female, just above me...Abilene, isn't it? She rolls her eyes at the sight of the factories, disgusted. But she walks deeper into them. I spot a shimmering, oozing, rather deep red gash on her side, and a bulging florescent yellow pack on her back. She was in a Pre-Games alliance just like I was, but alliances usually don't last past the Bloodbath, either from loss of most members, from the separation of surviving members, or a combination of both. My stomach growls eagerly at the sight of a half eaten apple's glossy red skin peeking out from under the flap of the pack. I sneak after her, keeping my distance and hiding behind various obstacles, like motheaten bolts of muddy fleece or nylon.

Abilene gasps as she leans against the outer metal wall of the third factory in the right row. She peels back the fabric of her coat and shirt to reveal that the cut is even more ghastly then it seemed before. I hear her mutter something about "effing Crosshatch" as her fingers rove across the wound and she hisses in pain, tears springing from her eyes. I spot her glittering, serrated dagger sitting at her feet. My mind has me wondering if I can get to it in time. My stomach has taken control. I need food. I've dealt with hunger before, but with food right there...it's like setting a starved urchin in front of a barely guarded pastry and telling them to not go after it. My mind and my body both reluctantly agree that attacking this girl, 4 years older than me, is the best option.

I slink across the ground. Abilene's face is turned upwards to the sky, eyes squeezed shut, as her fingers trace her wound, trying to find its blurred ends. It makes me gag, but I do so silently. I need this to be sneaky, quiet, sudden.

My fingers slowly wrap around the polished wooden hilt of the dagger, and then I plunge it into her knee.

She screams loudly, sending birds flying from the trees. She staggers to the ground, and I smash her face into the mud. She thrashes as I use the dagger to slice the straps of her pack apart. When it's free of Abilene's struggling body, I grab onto the top handle with one hand, the dagger in the other, and I sprint into the factory. My breath is soon coming in ragged gasps, and my body aches from keeping Abilene down long enough to free the pack from her back. I hear grunts and the slapping of feet against cement. Abilene is pursuing me.

I thank the gods above that I know these factories, since I've worked in one since I was 10. Abilene is obviously District 8 Merchant Born, with her angled features and her dark blonde hair, bordering on brown, along with her glowing blue eyes. She does not know hunger, she does not know pain, and she does not know factories like I do. I almost feel a pang of pity as I lead her towards the automated looms.

I scramble over one, and Abilene tries to follow. She struggles to pull her wounded body over the dozens of metal pieces of the loom.

I hit the switch, and the loom growls to life. Before Abilene can react, it starts winding invisible fabric into a quilt. Abilene screams as her body is diced to pieces. I don't look, hiding my face in the bright yellow pack as she gurgles and moans for mercy.

BOOM!

I killed someone. I peek at the loom, and I retch up sour bile onto my boots after looking upon the ghastly, gory mess situated everywhere on, in, and around the loom. It still is moving, destroying her already mangled corpse even more. I shut off the automatic loom, and Abilene's flesh slowly flops off of the loom. I just start to weep as I stagger away from her remains.

The loom killed her. Not me. I, Silky Ianis, do not kill people. I do not...I don't...I'm a good girl! I am always so good, so hard working, so nice! It...it was for survival. My body accepts that, as it's mostly turned into an instinctual, mindless creature. My mind doesn't totally agree with that, but I keep repeating the words "the loom killed her" until I believe it. Then I use some grease to disguise the bright color of my pack, and I crawl up to one of the manager's catwalk, which leads to the factory boss's office. I curl up in the puffy leather swivel chair, and crack open one of the books. There are two muffled cannons throughout the day as I read and eat and drink tiny amounts from Abilene's pack. No, not Abilene's pack. My pack.

The guilt creeps up into the back of my throat when I climb up onto the roof of the factory that night to watch the faces in the sky. Abilene's beaming one is the first one up there. I can't even process the other two faces, although I do know them, I just can't totally understand them right now. Abilene's guts, her remains, rush into my mind. That girl might have had a chance, and I killed her...

No, the loom killed her. Right?

* * *

 _ **Orrin Dash, 18, District 12 1st Male**_

* * *

They don't understand. She was mine! Beautify Clarence was my girlfriend. I was Reaped, for God's sakes! I did not volunteer to be in this with her. Now she is reclining in a polished oaken casket, dressed in her beautiful, frilly white Reaping outfit, her big dagger wound hidden and cleaned underneath the high neckline of the dress. My heart aches and blisters and burns and explodes, and I know I must win this for her.

Flannelette, Crosshatch, Nylon, even Corabelle, damn her, scoff and sneer as I weep alone in the Cornucopia. I pretend to be sifting through supplies, looking for good stuff, but we've already done most of that. In fact, I've just awoken from a dream of our first kiss. The tears stream from my eyes, but I wipe them away. She would want me to stay strong. She would also want me to make the right decision for me. That means ditching these assholes, maybe killing one or two of them in the process. No one will ever understand how much I want to slash off Crosshatch's smug grin or Flannelette's quirked, accusing eyebrows.

The hunt beckons to us as the dawn light glimmers over the horizon. We all prepare to go hunting, and Flannelette volunteers to stay back after I tell them I'd like to go hunting to push away the memories of the previous afternoon. I clean my mace and also bring a pack with a water bottle, a granola bar, and a small, skinny throwing knife inside it, just in case we're out there for a little while or I get lost.

As we finish getting ready and the sun fully rises, marking the true beginning of the day, a cannon rings throughout the arena.

BOOM!

The others must've gotten fiesty already and started fighting and all. One less to kill. Crosshatch is angry about that, but I'm happy. One less kill by us. I hate these Games already. I'm neck deep in regret. I'm already dead on the inside. Already gone.

We decide to skip the mountains and the unidentified smog belching structures. Lots of tributes might be there, but they're probably both heavily booby trapped if my knowledge of previous Games is any use. Instead we fan out, traveling a quarter mile apart each. We each take whistles, which were generously supplied in the Cornucopia after Crosshatch told the Gamemakers our plan during his training session. Similar tactics are used every year, it's just usually yelling instead of whistle blows. The whistles just make everything a whole lot easier for everyone. So, if we find a target, we blow our whistles as we start chasing them. We each have a different whistle blow. Mine is two short blows. For example, Nylon's is one long blow, and Corabelle's is one long and one short. Crosshatch's is three short, Flannelette's is two long blows, Patternia's _was_ four short, and Beautify's...was...one short blow.

We split and I hike through the uneven forested terrain, eyes looking in trees and under roots and between logs for hiding tributes, for feral tributes whose minds have already been conquered by instinct and fear.

An hour and half into the hunt, I hear three short blows ring throughout the arena. I set off at a dead sprint towards the screams of Crosshatch's prey. After ten minutes of running, I spot a roaring Crosshatch chasing after a whimpering, slender, shorter boy who has a sharpened stick in one hand and a pack of jerky in the other. Sad little thing. He's from my District, if he's wearing his own charcoal coat and shirt. Is it...Rhys?

As I reach Crosshatch, the boy trips. I back off and let the boy butcher Rhys as he screams. Corabelle arrives moments later, Nylon two minutes behind her. Moments after Nylon skitters to a stop beside the three of us, Rhys is a bloody mess underneath Crosshatch's boots as the boy cackles. I pale. I'm scared by this.

BOOM!

The other tributes must have been attracted by the whistle blows, or maybe they're just unluckily close, but we find the pair of tiny little 12 year old girls from my District again, named Phana and Emlee, about a half hour later into the hunt. Phana pushes Emlee to the ground and sprints off, and moments later Emlee gasps as a shuriken, courtesy of Corabelle, slices into her cheek. She tries to crawl away, but Corabelle finishes the job, pressing a boot into Emlee's back before stabbing the girl over and over with a shuriken until she dies ten minutes later and Corabelle is splattered in blood.

BOOM!

We hunt for the rest of the day, but we all know we've already made more than enough kills on the second day. Three hours after Emlee's death, we head back to camp, where we have a celebratory dinner.

Several hours later, as I'm reclining by the fire with the others, eating dinner, the faces shimmer in the sky.

 _Abilene Carron, District 8 2nd Female_

 _Rhys Tolling, District 12 2nd Male_

 _Emlee Reigns, District 12 2nd Female_

"How ironic that they were all 2nd's," Corabelle scoffs as she eats.

Everyone mutters in agreement, and before I know it I've drifted off to sleep.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey! Sorry for the lack of updates, and I hope this satisfied you guys! I'm really liking this story, so I hope updates will be able to come out faster. :) Here's some questions for you, my faithful readers. (And sorry that it was only 2 POVs again, but I feel like it didn't need any other POVs)**

 **1\. Favorite POV?**

 **2\. Least Favorite POV?**

 **3\. Thoughts on today's deaths?**

 **Kill list:**

 **Crosshatch (4): Lilly, Jasmine, Jack, and Rhys**

 **Flannelette (3): Beautify, Corduroy, and Fleece**

 **Corabelle (3): Archie, Henry, and Emlee**

 **Nylon (2): Odessa and Linen**

 **Orrin (2): Kenneth and Penny**

 **Brigitta (2): Cole and Hubert**

 **Lycra (1): Chenille**

 **Athiya (1): Patternia**

 **Tunis (1): Dawson**

 **Kinno (1): Lou**

 **Silky (1): Abilene**

 **Thanks for reading, and please review with thoughts and criticisms! :D**

 **Until Next Time,  
**

 **Tracee**


	7. 8-12 Prelims: Day 3

_**Phana Grotrekk, 12, District 12 11th Female**_

* * *

Emlee's screams ring in my ears as her dainty little face fades from the sky. Is it wrong that I want to laugh?

She was a naive little girl. I only volunteered to be in the all young girls alliance because they looked like easy targets. I was running away with my hunting knife and pack, having deftly avoided the Careers, and she ran after me, a big gut in her leg from the blade of some stupid misfit that was probably already dead. How could I refuse her? It was hard not to kill her yesterday. I wanted to so terribly, but she wanted to stay up all night since she was scared. If the Careers hadn't found us, I would be carving out her eyes and dicing off her fingers at the moment. Now I have to find another target.

The need for sleep weakly tugs at me as I prowl through the woods, searching for my first victim. They say I'm a crazy, insane, creepy little gremlin back home. The doctor told me I was "special" when we did our obligatory checkups after we disembarked from the train. He probably bought the innocent, weak act I've been playing like everyone else. No one pays attention to a grimy orphan, skulking in the ditches on the sides of the roads. They see her grab rats the scurry out of the gutters, thinking she'll fill her concave belly with them. Instead, she pulls them apart with her hands as they cry out. They see her tussling with some younger kids in a back alley and assume she's rough housing with a couple of siblings or friends. Instead, she punches them and laughs as they cry and bleed. She's even killed twice. So yes, that she is me. I am "crazy." I like to think that I just indulge in a little bit of fun. After all, I do deserve it. I am a penniless orphan, age 12, who's now in the Hunger Games. I am allowed to enjoy myself.

By the time the sun is glimmering over the horizon, shedding its rays upon the waking forest, sleep makes me stagger to my knees. I haven't found anyone yet. I stab my dagger, thick and sturdy, into the tree I lean on over and over. Sap gushes forth, and my rumbling stomach makes me lap at the sticky substance. Killing is fun, and hunger and sleep aren't that big of deterrents. I've lasted weeks without more than moldy crumbs and rat guts. The sap just looks so delicious, and the forest floor so soft and inviting...no. No. I will not fall victim to some stupid urge like sleep like a stupid 12 year old usually would.

I force myself to scale the tree I've stabbed. It's a maple, I think. My hands brush across some leaves as I haul my frail body into the upper reaches of the tree. I push back the top layer of foliage, and my heads peeks out of the canopy.

Around me is an endless sea of trees. The forest floor is invisible except for where trees don't exist, like in clearings or bodies of water. I spot a thin crack in the trees where a river or ravine is surely located. While hunger and sleep won't stop me from my goals, thirst will. My canteen from my pack is three fourths drained. I need more water, as what's left will be gone soon. I push through the clouds of feelings and instincts weighing me down as I drop from the tree and stumble towards the river. There might be other tributes there, too, so maybe I can land a kill.

After twenty minutes of hiking, the trickle of a small stream fills my ears. I crouch behind the fronds of a thick bush and peek through the leaves.

The stream scissors through the ground, a thin, clear line of running water that I could easily step over. Soft mud and clay make up the squishy banks of the tiny stream. My eyes search for clues about any recent visitors to this area, and my throat feels like sandpaper.

As my will finally breaks and I lunge out onto the bank, I spot the two unlaced boots sitting in the mud about thirty feet away. My tongue laps up a few gulps of water, and then I dash back into the cover of the bushes. Did I really just drink water without purifying it?! Sure, I don't have iodine, but still. I will not be taken down by stupid dysentery for God's sake!

Moments after I scurry back into the bushes, the owner of the boots steps out into the open. He snatches them up, and laces them over his bare, dirty feet. He has a few small cuts on his face, and he has a wooden spear he's fashioned some way or another. I recognize him as Damon from District 8. He isn't very experienced, but he is bigger and stronger than me. I see the bottle of iodine peeking out of his pocket, and I lunge forward.

My dagger slams into his knee, and Damon screams. He staggers and kicks me in the face with his other leg. My nose crunches and blood gushes forth. I gurgle out a cry of pain as I fall on my back. My nose is broken, my face is bloody, and Damon looms over me, one hand clutching his dripping knee, the other wrapped tight around the rough shaft of his wooden spear.

The tip is rather blunt, and my screams are broken and distorted as he shoves it again and again into my stomach. The skin rarely breaks, but I can barely breathe. One lucky hit punctures my abdomen, and he widens the hole in my stomach as he weeps pitifully. I thrash and scream, and I hurl my dagger at him. It flies over his shoulder, and he quickly snatches it from the malleable clay at our feet. He looks relieved as he finishes the job quickly, slitting my throat without a sound.

I can't say anything, as my windpipe is collapsing, but in my head I sputter out all sorts of obscenities. The world blurs and darkens, and fragments of my pitiful life shimmer on the edges of my dissipating mind. A far off boom sounds as a black box encloses my shattered form.

* * *

 _ **Etienne Walker, 18, District 12 11th Male**_

* * *

BOOM!

As the first cannon of the day booms, the three of us are trekking up an uneven ridge. Trees are scant in these hillier outer reaches of the arena, so the things that we use to ascend include divots in the rock and roots or grasses. I lead the ascent, moving quickly. My cousin and friend Coalette is scaling the ground about two feet behind me, and the rope connecting us is not pulled tight or anything. And then there is Faris, our friend from 8, who has a wound from a Career's arrow in his shoulder. He's lagging behind in the climb, and the rope between Coalette and him is taut. He is barely keeping pace, but Coalette is too nice to leave him behind, and we are on the far edge of the arena anyway. Soon enough we are going to hit the force field, so maybe it is his strategy to let us go first and get fried to death. The arrow wound isn't _that_ bad. I just dismiss those thoughts. No point in boiling water in a pot that can't be used.

Speaking of water, we'd gotten lucky enough to snatch a single bottle, along with two throwing knives, some jerky, and a scythe from the bloodbath. Coalette and I each carry a knife and a pack of jerky, and Faris lugs the water bottle and the scythe.

We aren't stupid, but for some reason we've all agreed to out to the farthest reaches of the arena. With lots of other tributes, there's bound to be lots more action than normal. That cannon that fired very recently marks the 22nd death, so there's 26 left in total, 23 minus us. 23 tributes is about the equivalent of a normal Hunger Games. So we don't have anything to worry about.

Or so I thought.

Fire is not an original idea, but fire is an effective idea. They use it almost every Games in some form or another to herd tributes together or away from the force field. I guess we are getting too close to the border of this spacious arena, because fire springs to life about a quarter mile away. As we slide down the rocky slope of yet another forested ridge, we see the smoke spiral into the air, the flames leaping out of nowhere. I hear two screams, far off and distant. So the fire is not for us. It's for whoever is trapped down in the valley below, for whoever is too close to the very fringe of the arena.

We hightail it away from the roaring and leaping flames. After about three or four minutes of scuttling back the way we came, a cannon shatters the quiet silence of the woods. Birds plume out of trees, scared, and Coalette jumps beside me.

BOOM!

We keep moving, jogging now away from the fire as the breeze blows the sickly sweet smoke in our direction. Twenty minutes pass and another cannon does not sound. We stop. It's probably around one or two by now, as the sun is shining bright overhead. We eat some jerky and drink the last of our carefully rationed water. Then we sit as the smoke billows from the north and silence consumes all of us.

The fire must have kept Mallory Undersee from my District moving, because she stumbles into the clearing where we've settled. I know it's the Gamemaker's doing. They need a show from us. Mallory keeps whimpering about "Matisa, Matisa, Matisa..." as she staggers around the edge of the clearing. She's delirious and tired and weak, covered in ash and soot, her skin raw and bubbling in places from the fire. Her cloudy eyes finally lock on us, and she whimpers and turns on her heel, jogging off desperately, yelping and moaning as she skitters away. Branches snap and leaves crunch in her wake.

I pick up the scythe and head after her. Coalette stares at me, mouth open, appalled, while Faris picks up one of the knives and follows me.

"But...but...Etienne!" Coalette yells.

"For the show, Coalie. For the show," I murmur into her ear before dashing off in chase of poor Mallory. The poor, poor thing. Her family's a pretty rich one. They have a history of having Mayors of 12 in the family. I won't be earning any brownie points with the higher ups back home by doing this. But the only brownie points that matter currently are those with the Gamemakers. If we satisfy them, they will leave us alone for a bit. We'll be able to hide, recuperate. It's all about keeping the Gamemakers happy. It's all about pleasing them, and if butchering a burned, broken girl is the way to do that, then so be it.

Mallory is definitely disoriented. Her mind must be shattered, since she's already stopped moving. She's strolling through the forest like nothing's wrong. She fiddles with a pine needle, sniffing it before tossing it behind her. She acts like she's on a school field trip to the Meadow, not trying to survive against the odds in the Hunger Games. My heart beats wildly, and pity makes me stop in my tracks.

Faris gingerly takes the scythe from my hands. I look at him strangely.

"I can do it," Faris murmurs. "I'll do it."

He's made me look weak. Crap. It's too late to undo that, however, and Faris is five feet behind the girl now. He lunges forward, swinging the scythe towards her. He's inexperienced with the weapon, but he manages to slam the blade between her shoulders clumsily. Mallory mewls, and he draws the scythe from her back, gaping in horror. Blood spills out as she falls to the ground, and Mallory dies in the course of ten seconds, bleeding out swiftly.

BOOM!

Faris gives me a look, and then he tosses the bloody scythe at my feet before dashing off in the direction of camp, where Coalette is waiting for us to return. I hesitantly snatch up the scythe, cleaning the blade on the forest floor. Then I sling it over my shoulder and sprint after him, hoping to catch up to him.

By the time I reach the clearing, I'm at Faris' side. There's nothing there. No Coalette, no jerky, no empty water bottle, no throwing knife. There are a few footprints, however, and a hastily scrawled note, dug in the dirt with a stick.

 _Bye. Don't look for me. I can take care of myself. Sorry for taking stuff. - Coalie_

I'm speechless, but Faris speaks enough words for the both of us.

"The stupid bitch," he growls.

Even though she is my beloved cousin, I hesitantly agree with his statement. Coalette Simon has probably just dug the three of our graves, leaving us with only a scythe and a throwing knife, and leaving her alone, without help and protection.

Is it wrong that I don't know how to feel about that?

* * *

 _ **Verney Dorsin, 16, District 12 9th Male**_

* * *

Jett gathers kindling as we stroll along the deer path we discovered last night. It's an animal path of some sort, but Jett likes calling it a deer path. Anyway, it leaves a clear, debris-less trail to walk on. We don't make any noise, and there's water and berries on the route. It's a great discovery, one that's probably saved our lives at this point. Jett ran in and got a clear plastic tarp along with a hunting knife. I got an empty water bottle and a heavy iron baton. The hunting knife is flimsy and won't be of much use in a real fight, and the baton is so heavy it's nearly unwieldy. We can carry berries in the tarp and keep water in the bottle, at least. We got lucky enough to get something, at least. 18 tributes didn't get anything, and they died, too.

I'm happy Jett is the one from my alliance that I met up with. I was alone on the first night. Jett had been with Kinno at the bloodbath since their pedestals had been next to each other, but then Kinno got in a tussle with another boy and Jett left him for dead, although he's still alive if the three cannons earlier today weren't his. Jett found me early in the morning of yesterday, and we've been together ever since. With Jett's edible plant skills and my strength, we've fared pretty well so far. Neither of us have seen a tribute besides ourselves since the bloodbath.

Dust roils a bit around our feet as crusty, dried mud cracks beneath our boots. I smooth out the rough, broken patch, covering up the boots' prints. We keep walking. The path is in a lopsided oval, and it's about two miles around. It's worn underneath our constantly pacing feet, but berries line the trail, and there's two clear ponds near the deer path. It's a nice, safe place to stay.

Jett whittles a twig into a sharpened point before snapping it in half and tossing it into the undergrowth. I roll a smooth pebble between my fingers, trying to keep calm, centered, focused. We're safe. It's just me and my friend Jett on an evening stroll through the woods. He's gathering some wood for a small fire, and I'm supposed to be picking some berries for us to eat. I resume that task. Nothing's troubling us. Nothing is wrong. There is no one around besides us.

Coalette Simon trips into our vision, and we both pale and duck into the bushes.

She scored a 7, just like me. Jett scored just below us, with a 6. She has a throwing knife clenched tight in her fist, and I can see Jett practically salivating over the weapon next to me. It's his favored weapon, and he's actually pretty decent with one. But Jett is 15, me 16. While I'm strong, Coalette is just as strong, maybe a little stronger. She's way taller than us, and she's probably smarter or something. Jett starts creeping forwards towards her, but I grab the back of his shirt and force him into a sitting position. He glares at me, but I ignore him.

Coalette pokes around some nearby berry bushes, eyes frantic, brow creased in worry. She flings some safe berries into her mouth, and then she takes a few not very safe berries. Slow acting poisonous ones. Jett murmurs their name as the dark red juices drip down her chin.

"Maroons," Jett growls. "Or ruber bacas venenum scientifically. Nasty little things. She'll be dead in four days if another tribute doesn't drop her by then."

"Should we do her the favor of killing her now?" I mutter.

"No. Let her be. Her cousin's still out there. They can have a heartfelt reunion, and then she'll die mysteriously. The audience will eat it up, and it will distract attention away from us. So yeah. Let her be."

"Smart," I whisper as Coalette eats a few more maroons, or _ruber bacas venenum_ , before jogging off. We crouch in the bushes for another five minutes to make sure she's gone. Then we step back out onto our trail, and our routine resumes. I pluck good berries, like blackberries for example, off of the bushes, popping some in my mouth, putting most in the plasticy tarp. Jett amasses a pile of kindling in his arms, picking up small twigs or bunches of leaves and adding them to his stash. We circle the two mile loop until night falls.

We settle in the middle of the loop, underneath a few willows, where the ground is muddy and soft with tall, cushy grasses. Night stars, as fake as Pontius Dovetail's shellacked wigs, shine overhead as Jett lights a small fire. The willows keep the smoke and fire hidden from sight, and we get warm and can cook animals if we find any. This system is working so well. It's sad that Jett and I can't be friends after the Games. Maybe we can be friends after the Prelims and Semis, but if we even make it to the Finals, I won't be sticking with him. That sucks, but it is the Games. I sincerely doubt both of us will be making it out of this Prelim, not to mention the Semis or Finals. It just isn't probable. The odds are not in our favor.

The faces of the dead parade across the sky soon enough. We creep out of our willow sheltered sleeping place to watch the faces of the three dead play across the sky. All three are girls, and two of them are from 12. I don't feel much when I see their faces. The Games are already changing me.

 _Matisa Fulton, District 8 4th Female_

 _Phana Grotrekk, District 12 11th Female_

 _Mallory Undersee, District 12 12th Female_

The faces fade from the sky. The anthem, haunting and loud, slicing through the tranquility of our willow grove, rings through the air for a minute before everything falls still and silent once again. Jett and I sigh together, and we go back to our grove, falling asleep side by side.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope this was a satisfactory chapter! Deaths will start coming in less and less, so don't worry about this being over in a few more days. While the Capitol does have 9 Games to get through, they won't rush through and make every Game last five days. I can't say how long each Games will be, but my best guess is 10-16 days. This story really is going to be inevitably LONG. Oh well. It is enjoyable to write. Thanks for all of the supportive reviews, it is nice to see that so many people are enjoying this story! :)**

 **Did you guys like our new POVs/better explored characters, Phana, Damon, Faris, Etienne, Coalette, Mallory, Verney, and Jett?**

 **Was Phana's death too gruesome? (I'm sorry that some of these deaths are really gory, but it _is_ the Hunger Games.)**

 **Kill list:**

 **Crosshatch (4): Lilly, Jasmine, Jack, and Rhys**

 **Flannelette (3): Beautify, Corduroy, and Fleece**

 **Corabelle (3): Archie, Henry, and Emlee**

 **Nylon (2): Odessa and Linen**

 **Orrin (2): Kenneth and Penny**

 **Brigitta (2): Cole and Hubert**

 **Lycra (1): Chenille**

 **Athiya (1): Patternia**

 **Tunis (1): Dawson**

 **Kinno (1): Lou**

 **Silky (1): Abilene**

 **Damon (1): Phana**

 **Faris (1): Mallory**

 **Gamemaker Fires (1): Matisa**

 **Thanks for reading, and review if you can! :D**

 **Until Next Time,**

 **Tracee**


End file.
